


I Need You Here With Me Now

by zimriya



Series: Daemon!Verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Daemons, First Time, Fluff, Harry and Louis are very much in love, M/M, Post-The X Factor Era, The Author is not sorry about the fluff, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 109,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS FIC (and series) IS DISCONTINUED. I'm really sorry and I tried, guys, but I can't do it. I do have a lot of stuff written for the years after this and one day hopefully be I'll be able to share that but for now, this is where it ends. I like to think that the chapters stand for themselves and end happily/with resolution so it can be read, but it is discontinued.</p><p>2011 in the Daemon!Verse. Louis’ in a band with four of his best friends, recording a debut album, filming a music video, meeting with producers and record companies, and also probably going to be touring at some point. Life is amazing. But best of all, he gets to do it with the boy he’s pretty sure is the love of his life. (Harry Styles. He gets to do it with Harry Styles.)</p><p>A His Dark Materials AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Marta and Vic. Very quickly looked over by the lovely S, who is not in this fandom but is a godsend. Britpicked by Jess. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> RIGHT SO THIS ONE IS YOUR BELATED BIRTHDAY PRESENT AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. (First it was applestore then it was the one with the cat but now it’s THIS ONE) You’re awesome, thanks for being my own personal cheerleader! 
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply: fictional (though I have attempted to be as realistic as possible) and not meant to be shared with the boys/anyone who works for the boys. Please don’t post this anywhere but here!
> 
> [Here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) is a handy primer to daemons/HDM on my tumblr.

**January 2011**

\--

“I want to have sex with Harry,” Louis says, walking into Zayn and Liam’s room without looking up from his phone. It’s not exactly what he’d planned on saying, but it is the truth, so he reckons he should probably just go with it. “Like, not right this second, obviously, since Harry’s not here, but in general.”

Neither Liam nor Zayn answer him.

Louis goes on. “And obviously not always--like, well, okay.” He toes the hotel door room closed and shoots Tiamat a careful look to make sure her tail isn’t anywhere important like still halfway into the hallway, before turning back to his phone. “Maybe always, but have you seen Harry’s mouth?”

Zayn and Liam are still worryingly silent, so Louis lifts his head to address the room.

So that thing about Harry obviously not being here? Complete and utter lies.

Harry is sitting on Liam’s bed with his laptop on his knees, flushed to the top of his ears, Liana draped around his neck, while Liam looks shocked and Zayn puts his head in his hands. Bethania is curled up near the pillows with Fikriyya, but both of them look up to stare at Louis.

“Um,” says Harry.

“ _Um_ ,” says Louis.

“Wow,” says Liana.

“I hate you,” says Tiamat.

Louis clutches at his phone like it’s a lifeline and swallows. “Harry,” he says hoarsely. “Hi.”

Harry waves at him, still pink. Liana doesn’t look like she’s picked her jaw off the floor yet.

“I’m just gonna--go, now,” Louis continues, eyes darting between Harry and Liana and Liam and Zayn. He starts backing out of the room, shutting the door behind him, before hurrying towards Niall’s room. Niall’s room is safe. Harry’s definitely _not_ in Niall’s room.

“Oh my God,” says Tiamat. “You’re an idiot.”

Louis can already feel the panic clamoring around in his chest and his daemon is not helping. “You’re not helping,” he hisses at her.

“I can’t believe you _said_ that,” Tiamat continues. “I can’t believe I _let_ you say that.”

They reach the end of the hallway and Louis stops to glare at her. “Fat lot of good you did,” he says sharply. “Don’t you have claws for a reason--”

“Louis!”

Louis turns, cheeks burning, to look where Harry’s standing awkwardly in the doorway of Liam and Zayn’s room. “Yes?” he manages.

“Me too!” Harry shouts, voice cracking painfully.

“You want to have sex with Harry as well?” Louis calls back, perfectly aware that he’s being ridiculous.

Harry blushes. Louis can’t actually see him, but he can tell he blushes. “No, I, um.” He’s probably biting at his lip. “I’d like to have sex with you, too.”

Louis blinks. “Oh,” he says, voice stuttering a bit. “Um. Yay?”

Harry grins brightly enough that Louis can see all the way down the hall. _All the way down the hall._ Probably this is not the kind of conversation to be having in the middle of a hotel hallway. “Thought you should know!” Harry calls, and Louis catches the tail end of Liana swearing at him and shoving him back into Liam and Zayn’s room.

He feels a bit faint. “I,” he says. “Huh.”

Tiamat very helpfully steps on one of his feet. “What?” she says when he looks at her. “Don’t I have claws for a reason?”

Louis goes to snap at her, but Niall’s hotel room door comes swinging open before he can.

“Tommo?” he says. “What’re you doing?”

Louis shoots Tiamat one last evil eye, before smiling sweetly at Niall. “Niall,” he says. “Nialler. Ni. Nail...file.”

Niall narrows his eyes. “Louis,” he says. “What do you want?”

Louis blinks innocently at him. “What makes you think I want something?”

Eirian sticks her head out of the door between Niall’s legs muttering something about Louis always wanting things, but Niall’s distracted by his mobile, which buzzes helpfully.

Louis swallows. “It’s rude to answer texts when you’re in the middle of a conversation,” he says.

Niall ignores him and blinks down at the phone, eyebrows raising, before he lets out a bark of laughter and hauls Louis inside the room.

Tiamat follows him grudgingly, as Niall giggles, Louis yelps, and Eirian tries to get Niall to show her the phone. Niall pushes Louis down onto the bed before crawling in next to him, sitting cross-legged with his chin in his hands and his phone in his lap. He blinks at him.

“So,” Niall says. “You want to fuck Harry then. Cool.”

Louis opens his mouth to protest Niall’s choice of words--he does not want to ‘fuck’ Harry, he would like to make love to Harry. Or, just sleep with him. Like, ‘fucking’ is far too crude for what Louis wants to do to Harry Styles; Harry Styles deserves nothing less than the finest. Roses. A bed of roses and dining and maybe a football match, and then making love. Not fucking, honestly. He glowers at Niall, who he realizes is grinning at him.

“What?”

“You’re making a face,” says Niall unhelpfully. “ _Th_ e face.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” says Louis.

“The face that means you’re composing odes to Harry in your head,” Niall says over him. “The face that says you don’t want to fuck Harry after all.”

“No, I do,” Louis is quick to say. “Just like, romantically.”

There’s a pause.

Tiamat very quietly crawls under Niall’s hotel bed and Eirian starts laughing.

Louis can feel the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck. “No, I--” he tries to explain, and then drops back against the hotel bed with a groan. “Kill me?”

Niall’s laughter joins his daemon’s. “Nope,” he says. “We’ve got a gig tonight, Lou, we need you.”

“Right,” Louis says. “Right, yeah, of course. But after?”

“Besides.” Niall’s voice is closer and annoyingly cheery. “If I kill you, you most definitely cannot make sweet romantic love to our dear Harry.”

“Mine,” Louis corrects automatically. “ _My_ dear Harry.” When that claim sinks in, he blushes even more and reaches for one of Niall’s pillows to smother himself with. “Ugh.”

“Your Harry, then,” concedes Niall, amused. “I dunno why you’re making such a big deal about it--Harry wants to make sweet romantic love to you too.”

Louis sits up and removes the pillow from his face. “What?”

Niall hands him his phone, open to a text from Harry reading, ‘ _yes? why are you asking?_ ’

Louis scrolls back to see what Niall’d originally said. “Do you want to make sweet romantic love to Louis?” he reads. “Please answer, it’s important.”

Niall looks smug and takes his phone back. “I’m a good friend, aren’t I?” he asks Louis. He’s clearly not waiting for an answer when he decides, “you’re lucky you know me.”

Louis lays back on the bed and covers his face with the pillow again. “I am not,” he says, even as his stomach turns itself into knots with newfound butterflies and he ends up hiding a giddy grin in the pillow. He totally is.

\--

After the Hatfield gig and its autograph fiasco, Louis very quickly realizes that he’s not going to be seeing Harry until they’re recording, and that is just not acceptable. He’s at home, very quietly rubbing one off, while Tiamat grumbles into her paws from where she’s positioned herself helpfully in front of Louis’ door, when it occurs to him. They’d thought out the door system several years ago, after one too many times of his mum nearly walking in on them. Tiamat likes to pretend she wasn’t all that affected, but Louis caught her jumping at the creak of the floorboards for weeks.

The point being, Louis’ got one hand wrapped around his dick and the other in his mouth, when it comes to his attention that instead of picturing Harry’s incredibly pretty lips around his cock, he could probably have Harry’s incredibly pretty lips wrapped around his cock. Or like, he could wrap his own lips around Harry’s cock--Louis doesn’t want to discriminate. He’s relatively certain neither of them have much experience in the way of sucking dicks, but Harry is nothing if not eager to learn, and Louis, well. Louis loves him.

Louis is also coming, and Tiamat is swearing at him, and holy gods he’s not going to see Harry for days.

“Ti?” he says, after a moment, when he breath comes back. “Flannel?”

His daemon swears quietly at him, before getting to her feet shakily. She drags the requested piece of cloth over to him anyway, before clambering onto the bed next to him. “Budge over,” she says. “God, why’d you have to do that?”

Louis wipes up the mess on his stomach and drags his trackies back up. “Hmm?” Everything is floaty and lovely and nice.

“I hate sexually frustrated you,” Tiamat continues in a despairing tone, even as she shakes quietly next to him on the bed. “This is worse than when you discovered you had a cock and balls.”

Louis thinks that over for a bit. “To be fair I always knew I had a cock and balls,” he points out. “Be it that I had sisters. Sisters I had to wash.”

Tiamat probably rolls her eyes at him. “You’re missing the point,” she tells him. “Sexually frustrated you is worse than emotionally stunted you.” She yawns and then adds helplessly, “Lou, it’s not even evening, why’d you have to _do_ that?”

“Have you seen Harry’s mouth?” Louis manages to say, by way of explanation. “You try looking at Harry’s lips and not having a wank.”

“Haha.” Tiamat lifts her head so that she can better stare at him, unimpressed. “You mean Harry’s Harryness,” she says. “Not his lips, you wanker--you’re in _love_.”

“I don’t think Harry’s all that hairy, actually,” Louis says conversationally. “And yes, thank you. I did in fact just have a wank.”

Tiamat shoves her face into his neck. “Louis,” she growls.

Louis squirms on the bed at the feel of her whiskers brushing his chin. “ _Tiamat_!” he protests.

His daemon just presses harder.

“Right, yes okay, possibly it was Harry in general,” he admits, flailing about on the bed until they end up firmly pressed together, his daemon mostly covering him and both their chests heaving. “He’s just, so _Harry_.”

Louis doesn’t know what to do with his Harry feelings half the time. In fact, he’s still half-convinced that he’s going to wake up one day and Harry will have realized he hasn’t found the love of his life at age sixteen.

“Just,” he continues, scrambling for words. “ _Harry_.”

“Ha,” says Tiamat. “Told you so.”

Louis rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Don’t get cocky.”

Tiamat is quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t know,” she says eventually. “I’d think you’re enough for the both of us.”

Louis snickers like an idiot and shoves her with his free hand.

She laughs with him, the sound rumbling in her chest, before quieting and sighing. Louis knows she’d usually be fast asleep, as she usually is after orgasms, but for some reason his thoughts keep racing about in his head; he’s probably keeping her up, at this point.

He also won’t be seeing Harry until later in the week when they start recording the album in earnest, and while that’s nothing like their little Christmas/birthday separation, it still makes something icy settle into his chest. He can’t make sweet romantic love to Harry in a recording studio--they’re supposed to be recording an album, not soft-core porn. (Although, to be fair, at least soft-core porn would always have a place in the world, unlike boybands and their fleeting sound and shelf life, to quote Simon Cowell.)

“There is nothing soft-core about what you want to do to that boy,” says Tiamat helpfully, from somewhere to Louis’ left. He can hear his sisters bustling around the house downstairs, his mum attempting to wrangle them, and it’s nice. But not Harry. Hence Louis’ problems.

“Go lick yourself,” he tells Tiamat. “You are not helping me.”

“You should ask him out,” says his daemon, ignoring him. She shuffles until she’s more solidly pinning him to the mattress, giant paws resting on Louis’ collarbones and pressing the breath out of him.

“Oomph,” Louis says. “Where would I even take Harry, though?”

“Football,” says Tiamat. “Football is always good.”

“I do like football,” says Louis. “Do you think Harry likes football?”

His daemon rolls her large green eyes and swats him with a paw. “Don’t be daft, Louis, honestly,” she says.

“Right, okay,” Louis says around the fur in his mouth. “So I should take Harry to watch football.”

“I’m glad we had this talk,” says Tiamat.

\--

The problem with deciding to take Harry Styles out, Louis finds, is not that he has to call Harry Styles and ask him out (which he’d done, somewhat giddily, while Tiamat sat on his chest and prevented him from fleeing the scene and Liana made snarky comments in the background). It’s not even that he has to do the whole awkward ‘mum, may I have the car and also maybe sleep over at Harry’s, thanks, love you,’ song and dance with his mum, which is saying something, since both those things are far worse than anything Simon Cowell made him do. The problem is that in order to take Harry Styles out, Louis has to take Harry Styles out, and Harry Styles is unfairly attractive and taller than Louis.

“You should probably stop referring to him as Harry Styles,” Tiamat whispers to him as he stands awkwardly on Harry’s front doorstep trying not to let the panic show on his face. Smiling. Louis is smiling. Totally smiling. Not at all having a bit of panic on the inside.

“Hi,” says Harry, a bit breathlessly. “How are you?”

He’s so polite. Louis is fucked. He can’t say that, obviously, so instead he says, “Do you think you’re hairier than the average guy?”

Harry blinks at him. “No?” he says finally. “But, I mean, what would you consider average hairiness?”

Louis would like the ground to swallow him whole. “Um.”

“Is this about me being young, though?” Harry looks a bit worried now, biting at his bottom lip.

And he’s cute. Louis is so, so, _so_ fucked.

“No, I,” he says. “I like your hairiness, Harry.” He thinks that over. “I mean your level of hairiness is fine--there’s nothing wrong with your age--I like _you_ , Harry.”

Harry’s grinning again.

Louis is most definitely blushing. “Are you ready to go?” he gets out, subtly reaching back with a foot to try to stomp on Tiamat’s tail.

His daemon just laughs at him.

“And I thought you were embarrassing,” says Liana, popping up from behind Harry’s left ear. “Hi, Louis.”

Louis manages a wave. “Hey.” He turns back to Harry. “Harry?”

“I’ve really been looking forward to this,” Harry tells him earnestly, and Louis forgets about the prior embarrassments.

“Me too,” he breathes. He sticks out an arm. “Shall we?”

Harry looks between his face and his arm, grinning, before twinning their arms. Liana very subtly looks between them, before crawling down so that she’s just barely touching Louis’ shoulder. “Lead on,” says Harry.

Louis feels Liana like a band, even through the layers of his jacket, and swallows. He leads on.

It’s slightly awkward several moments later when Harry’s step-dad exits the house and joins them at the car, but Louis doesn’t let go of Harry’s arm and manages a grin. They’ve got a match to watch.

\--

“No, but, if we weren’t famous we could definitely do it,” Louis tells Harry, petting Liana absently. She nibbles on one of his fingers gently in response, and he rides out the little zings of pleasure with tightly closed eyes.

“Mmm?” Harry sounds equally affected by the petting.

Louis is less inclined to stop, storytelling skills aside. “Switching daemons,” he clarifies, because he had a point to this entire conversation and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish it. “We’d just have to stay really close together, and pretend. It’d be easy.”

Harry makes another low noise. “True,” he says, voice raspy. “It’d be hard to concentrate, though.”

Louis mulls that over. “That’d be part of the fun, I think,” he says. “‘Cause only we’d know.” He stops petting Liana but Harry’s daemon just sighs and flops against his chest.

Harry’s eyes blink open and he turns to face Louis on the bed. “Yeah,” he says. “That does sound fun.”

His eyes really are very green, Louis notices, and his lashes are very long. Not as long as Louis’, as Harry seems fond of reminding him in very inopportune moments--such as in the middle of ordering food at Rosso and quietly under his breath when meeting Rio Ferdinand--but long enough. Long enough that Louis finds it very hard to think, for a moment.

“So fun,” he says.

“The funnest,” agrees Harry.

“More fun than all other funs,” Louis adds.

“Please stop,” says Liana. “Also, I think you’d break me if Louis carried me around all day.”

“Also, everyone knows us,” says Tiamat.

Louis scowls at her. “Yes, I know that,” he says. “Which is why I said if we weren’t famous.”

“We’re not all that famous, though,” Harry interjects, reaching out with a free hand to pet at Tiamat’s ears.

Louis curses gently in his head and goes back to stroking Liana in response. “Nonsense, Harold, we’re entirely famous.” He reaches out to tug on one of Harry’s curls. “Fans all around the world know you as the curly haired one.”

Harry laughs. “What’re the others, then?”

Louis purses his lips. “Well, Zayn’s probably the fit one,” he says. “And Liam’s obviously the sensible one. And Niall’s just, Niall.”

Harry dimples. “And you?”

Louis licks his lips. “Me?” he says. “I’m probably the funny one or summat,” he says. “The annoying twat, maybe?”

Harry swats at him. “You’re not a twat, Lou,” he says.

Louis squawks at him. “So you’re saying I’m annoying, then.” He doesn’t give Harry time to respond, before he rolls for him, gently dumping Liana onto the bed so he can try to tickle her human.

“Lou--Lou-- _Louis_ ,” Harry gets out between bouts of laughter. “It’s two in the morning-- _Louis_!”

Louis stops tickling him long enough to smirk at him. “Is it?” he says. “I hadn’t noticed, Harold.”

“No--My parents are sleeping,” he corrects, trying to get away from Louis in vain. “You’re not the annoying one, promise! You’re the mischievous one!”

Their daemons both heave long suffering sighs and very quietly retreat to the floor, grumbling as they go.

“Be sure not to break him, Harry, yeah?” says Tiamat. “I’m actually somewhat fond of him.”

Harry stiffens, cheeks flaming, before he nods quickly in her direction. “Um, yeah,” he says. “Will do.”

Louis stops wrestling with him. “Are you embarrassed, Hazzabee?” he says, voice teasing.

Harry refuses to meet his eyes. “No.”

“You are,” Louis crows, rolling so that he’s more solidly resting above Harry on the bed. He drops down onto his elbows and breathes on Harry’s neck. “You’re _embarrassed_!”

Harry growls at him. “I am not,” he protests, turning so that they’re breathing the same air.

He’s striking this close, and Louis forgets his train of thought. “Erm, yeah,” he says. “I guess you’re not?”

Tiamat laughs from somewhere on the floor. Louis kicks off a shoe and flings it at her.

It lands on Harry’s bedroom floor with a thump and all of them freeze awkwardly.

No one else stirs in the house.

“That was close,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” Louis says.

“You going to let me up?”

Louis probably should, now that he thinks about it. He should get up, maybe straighten his hair, give Harry a moment to catch his breath, and go back to lounging on the bed and gossiping like children. Instead, he worms a hand free to reach his phone.

“Louis?” Harry blinks, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Louis pulls up Twitter. “I should, shouldn’t I,” he tells Harry, quietly, fingers dancing across the keys. He flips the phone over to show Harry.

“Probably,” Harry agrees, looking at where Louis’ typed out ‘[Sleep over at Harrys :)](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/22471081033990144)’. “That’s the sensible thing to do.”

Louis presses his lips together and then licks them reflexively. “Good thing I’m not Liam, then,” he says, and kisses Harry.

“I should hope you’re not Liam,” Harry says against Louis’ mouth. “I wouldn’t want to do this with Liam. Kissing, I mean. And like, fucking? Are you going to fuck me, Lou? You said you wanted to _ages_ ago.”

Louis pulls back with his heart pounding in his ears. “ _Jesus_ , Harry,” he says.

Harry makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and reaches after Louis. “ _Lou_ ,” he whines. “Come on.” His cheeks are this lovely shade of pink and his eyes are all big and glassy and Louis would look at his mouth, but that would ruin any and all of his chances of actually managing to have a proper conversation with Harry.

“Harry,” he says. He fixes his eyes on a point somewhere beyond Harry’s head. “Haz. H. Um.” What was the point of this conversation? When he looks down to ask Harry, he finds the other boy’s got a hand down his trousers and a slightly guilty look on his face.

Louis is appalled.

Harry looks chagrined. “What?” he says. His hand is still in his jeans.

Louis makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat.

“You said you wanted to sleep with me,” says Harry.

“You did,” adds Liana from the floor. Tiamat makes an agreeing noise as well.

Harry starts nodding furiously and smiles up at Louis. “You really, really did.” He pulls his hand free and wipes it on the bedspread. Louis tries very hard not to think about how long his fingers are. “It’s been _days_.”

Louis swallows. “I know,” he says. And then, when Harry grins at him again and reaches out to grab his _bum_ , he adds, “I _know_ , but--it’s kind of a big deal, Haz.”

Harry furrows his brow at him. “Lewis,” he says, deliberately mispronouncing the name. “You think I don’t know that?”

Louis has to concede he probably does know that. But he’s also avoiding the issue incredibly well, if the less than subtle grip he has on Louis’ arse is anything to go by. Louis can’t help the little twitches his hips end up making, nor can he help the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

“No, but-- _Harry_.”

Harry doesn’t look up from where he’s leaned up and nipped Louis’ earlobe. “Mmm?” he hums, and then kisses along Louis’ jawline.

Louis’ basically been in a perpetual state of arousal since the first time he and Harry kissed, and this is not helping. Maybe they should just have sex, if only to give his dick a break.

Harry tightens his grip on Louis and his hips shift just so. “Louis,” he murmurs. “Come on, please?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis repeats, scandalized, and oh so, so turned on. Right, so having sex probably won’t help with the arousal thing, since handjobs and blowjobs had not helped with the arousal thing. At most, Louis’ pretty sure that if he fucks Harry, it’ll only make him worse.

Tiamat’s head pops up. “Hey,” she says. “We agreed there would be no fucking.”

Louis lets his head thump down on the bed next to Harry’s with a low groan, and drops his weight down on Harry with a sigh. “We did no such thing,” he says tersely.

Tiamat is unperturbed. “Yes, we most definitely did,” she says.

Louis tries to lifts his head and tries to pull back so that he can glare at his daemon, but Harry makes a noise in response and hauls him back in so that he can continue attacking Louis’ neck.

“Niall said you wanted to fuck Harry,” says Tiamat. “And then you clarified that there would be no fucking whatsoever.”

Louis shoves halfheartedly at Harry’s chest and then reaches behind himself to grab Harry by the hands. It’s very hard to have a conversation when your boyfriend can’t stop groping your arse. “Tiamat,” he says, tightly.

“In fact,” continues his daemon, sounding entirely too pleased. “You were very clear that what would happen between you and Harry would be sweet romantic lovemaking.”

“ _Ti_ ,” Louis hisses. “Not helping, _at all_.” He looks back down at Harry, whose cheeks are even pinker and whose mouth has fallen open. He tightens his grip on his wrists. When that does nothing besides make Harry’s breath hitch, he drags them up above his head and holds them there so that he can finally breathe. He can’t quite get his hips to stop grinding against Harry’s, though, which is probably making everything worse.

He turns to meet his daemon’s eyes.

Tiamat curls her tail around her front feet and hums at him. “What?” she says. “Just being honest.”

“Yeah, Lou,” says Liana. “Honesty is an important part of any relationship.”

Louis considers throwing his other shoe at her. “It’s embarrassing,” he mutters, hips finally stopping. He ducks back down to hide his face in Harry’s neck.

“Not really.” Harry’s voice sounds funny, but that might just be because Louis’ got his ear pressed into the duvet. “I think it’s sweet.”

Louis’ stomach does that lovely flip-flop thing again. He fights off a smile. “Really?”

“Really.” Harry’s voice goes all warm and fuzzy, and this time Louis can feel him smiling against his neck. “Now can I have my hands back, please?”

Louis blinks, but instead of releasing his grip on Harry’s wrists, he tightens it. “I dunno,” he says, propping himself up on his free elbow so that he can better look down at Harry. “I’m not sure you really want them back.”

Harry bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything in response. He shifts restlessly against the bed and refuses to look away from Louis.

Louis pauses, uncertain. “But to clarify,” he says quickly, “we’re not having sex tonight, right?”

Harry’s eyes get wide. “We’re not?” he says.

Louis swallows. “Um,” he says. “No?” He’s not ready for this. Yes, he did randomly barge into a hotel room announcing his intentions and desires for this very thing, it dawns on him that this is a big step. And like, a big moment, and they only have one chance, and yes the dinner and the match was lovely but he’d kind of rather his first time with Harry _not_ be in his childhood bedroom at two in the morning with both his parents in the house. Call Louis romantic, but that’s the truth.

Harry isn’t saying anything.

“Harry?” Louis tries not to think about how high his voice is. Oh God. He’s--oh god. The moment stretches on for quite a bit longer than Louis ever wanted, before there’s a thump somewhere in the background.

No one moves or breathes.

And then Harry starts laughing.

“Ow,” says Liana.

“Sorry,” says Tiamat.

Louis’ not sure, but he thinks Harry’s daemon just fell off of his daemon.

Harry’s still laughing. “Honestly, Louis, your face,” he says, after a bit. “Relax.”

Louis lets go of his wrists and flops down on the bed next to him. “Shut up.” He punches Harry in the shoulder. “It’s kind of a big deal, Haz.”

Harry rolls over on his side and rests a cheek in his palm. “I know,” he says, completely serious. “And I’m ready,” he adds. “Whenever you want.” He pauses. “Maybe not in my mum’s house, though,” he decides. “But, you know. Eventually.” He grins.

Louis loves him so very much. He can feel the moment when Tiamat picks Liana up in her mouth and gets up on the bed, because his daemon settles so that she’s pressed up against every single inch of Harry’s body. “I love you,” he says, skin humming.

Harry lights up. “I love you too,” he says, leaning forward to kiss Louis. “Even though you’re not going to make sweet romantic love to me.” One of his hands get tangled in the hair at the back of Louis’ head. “We are going to get off, though, right?” he asks.

Louis rolls his eyes and goes back in to nip at Harry’s bottom lip. “Yes, Harry,” he says, reaching around so that he can pet Liana. “Of course.”

Harry lets out a shuddery breath and flops back against the bed. “Great,” he says.

Louis lets go of Liana and reaches for Harry’s dick. “I should hope it’s better than simply ‘great’, Harold,” he says, unbuttoning Harry’s jeans.

Harry makes a high pitched noise. “That’s not--” he says. “That’s not my--name-- _Lou_ \--”

Louis looks up from where he’d been licking a stripe along his palm. “Mmm?” he says. “Do you need me to do something, Harold?”

“Never mind.” Harry shakes his head furiously. “Never mind, good plan, don’t--”

Louis gets his hand around Harry’s cock, mouth going dry, and pumps once. And then twice, for good measure. And then he just keeps flicking his wrist.

“--stop,” Harry finishes, more than a little strangled.

Louis stops.

Harry’s eyes come open and he looks broken. “Louis,” he wails.

Louis brings his free hand up and presses it against his lips. “Shh,” he says. “You don’t want to wake your mum or Robin.”

Harry makes a noise just as wrecked as he is, shifts his head against the bed, and whines. “Louis--”

Louis presses his finger a bit harder against Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s nostrils flare, but he quiets.

“Good,” Louis tells him. “Now, where were we?”

For a moment, Harry doesn’t say anything, until Louis tightens his grip on his cock. He closes his eyes and sighs, tongue darting out to wet his lips and Louis’ index finger, before sleepily opening his eyes.

Louis groans. “God, _Harry_ ,” he says, more reverent than he’d wanted or intended.

Tiamat makes a low rumbling noise and one of Harry’s hands finds whatever part of her he can reach.

Louis is rock hard in seconds, hips stuttering forward against nothing and fingers spasming against Harry’s cock.

Harry’s eyes fly open and he groans. “Do that again,” he mutters, and drags his hand along Tiamat’s shoulder till he finds her ear.

Louis whines and drops his head forward, shuffling towards Harry on the bed and letting go of Harry’s cock to fumble with his flies. “You play dirty, Styles,” he says, hissing when Harry stops petting Tiamat long enough to help him with the button of his jeans.

Harry wraps a hand around his and Louis’ cocks and grins up at him. “You love it,” he tells him, and Louis fucks up into his fist.

“Yeah.” He sighs and closes his eyes, vaguely aware of Liana and Tiamat whispering to each other somewhere behind Harry, but too far gone to be all that bothered. Let him and Harry’s souls have their secrets--what does it matter, anyway. It’s just further proof of how entwined in each other’s lives they are.

Louis gets his eyes open in time to watch Harry fall apart, little hitching breaths escaping his mouth and toes curling in the bed. He reaches up to cup his cheek. “I love you,” he points out. “So, _so_ , much--Harry--”

Harry kisses him as he comes, muffling the sounds he makes, and then holds Louis through his own orgasm as he shudders over the edge several drags of Harry’s hand later. “Hey, Louis,” he says.

“Yeah?” Louis feels boneless and exhausted, but he reaches down to shove at his jeans and boxers anyway.

“Me too,” says Harry. He presses one last kiss to Louis’ mouth, before getting up in search of clean underwear.

Louis finishes kicking his jeans. “You’re in love with Harry Styles as well?” he says, lips twitching, as he thinks back to the conversation that got them here.

Harry rolls his eyes and throws a pair of boxers at him. “Haha,” he says. “You’re hilarious.”

Louis tugs the things up over his hips and settles back against the duvet. “I know,” he says. “So Britain has told me.”

Harry gets back on the bed and frowns when he ends up in the wet-spot. “Hey, budge over,” he tells Liana and Tiamat, both of whom lift their heads up and groan.

“But, Harry,” Liana complains. “I’m tired.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Tiamat adds.

Louis very gently kicks her. “The sooner you move over the sooner we can all get some sleep,” he says.

Tiamat snorts at him, but she gets shakily to her feet anyway, shuffling over on the bed as Harry peels back the covers and gets in.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got this big bed,” Louis tells him, wedging himself under the duvet next to Harry and yawning. Tiamat ends up nearly falling off when he does so, and she glares at him, before flopping down nearly on top of Harry. It just makes him feel warm, now that the orgasm’s taken the edge off. He sighs.

Harry flicks off his light with an equally pleased breath. “We’ll have to get a bigger one for our own house,” he mumbles. “Like, king size at least. And maybe a garden.”

Louis smiles into the dark and kisses whatever part of him he can find. It ends up being the corner of his mouth, and therefore he feels it when Harry’s own lips twitch. “Of course, H,” he says. “Anything for you.”

“We need spare rooms,” Harry continues, voice going hazy. “At least three, for the lads, and like, at least two for--” He breaks off, suddenly tense against Louis in the bed.

Louis reaches out and finds his hand in the dark and gives it a squeeze. “Go to sleep, Haz,” he says. The ‘I want children with you, too’ goes unvoiced, but the way Harry grips his hand right back, lets Louis know he’s heard it loud and clear.

\--

Louis’ a bit distracted with his own interview, so he doesn’t actually end up hearing what it is Harry says that has the rest of the boys grinning at him the entire drive back to the hotel. They’ve got a performance to get ready for, and Louis’ already nervous enough as it is. Add to that the fact that Harry won’t actually tell him what he said, and Louis thinks he’s more than a little justified in the silent treatment he’s been maintaining for most of their pre-show ritual.

“This is the most mature idea you’ve ever had,” Tiamat tells him, after Harry gives up trying to get him to talk and retreats to his own side of their dressing room to let someone fuss with his hair.

Louis frowns at Tiamat. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious.”

“I’m not,” Tiamat says, going for unaffected.

Louis sees right through her. “Admit it,” he says. “You’re just as curious as I am.”

His daemon sighs. “Well, yeah,” she says. “I am a cat.”

Louis stares at her with his mouth open.

Zayn walks by with Fi riding on top of his perfectly styled hair. “Careful, Tommo,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to let flies in.”

Louis flips him off.

“Get it?” If Tiamat were a person, Louis guesses she’d be raising her eyebrows at him. “Curiosity. I’m a cat.”

“You’re hilarious,” Louis tells her, shaking his head.

“I know.” She sounds pleased. “Now stop being a tit.”

When Louis looks over, he catches Harry mid soulful puppy-dog look. “Has he been doing that for long?” he asks Zayn.

Zayn looks up from his phone. “What, staring at you all wounded-like?”

Louis nods.

“Yeah, all day,” he says. “But, he did tell Sugarscape you were his first celebrity crush, Lou. Give the kid a break?”

Louis’ mouth falls open again. “He did?”

“Flies,” Tiamat reminds him.

“Shh,” Louis says, putting down his own phone and making his way over to Harry. The stylist’s finished working her magic with him, and he’s leaning against the wall fiddling with his phone. His hair’s getting long. Louis sidles up to him and rests both his hands on his shoulders. “So,” he says. “I hear I’m your celebrity crush.”

Harry’s cheeks go red. Liana stars whispering about how she told him not to say anything. Harry very gently shoves her off of his leg. “Um,” he says.

Louis can’t help but laugh at him. “Come off it, Hazza,” he says. “I’ve had your dick in my mouth, don’t get shy, now.”

Liam and Zayn very suddenly start talking loudly, and Niall chokes.

“So, it’s a gay club?” Liam asks, voice cracking in the middle.

“It’s called G-A-Y, mate,” Zayn replies, deadpan, but when Liam elbows him in the stomach he adds, “I mean, I don’t know, Liam, is it?”

Louis shakes his head at their antics but doesn’t look away from Harry. “Harry?”

Harry gives him a slightly sheepish grin. “Well, it’s true,” he says. “You had me at ‘hello.’ Or, ‘hi,’ I guess.”

Liana makes a quiet retching noise and Harry very pointedly shakes her paws off his legs. Louis hadn’t even noticed her climbing them.

“Wow, Harry, talk about sappy,” he says, and drags Harry away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go bother Liam.”

Liam’s head comes up and he stops whatever argument he’d been having with Zayn. “Oi, why me?” he says.

“Why not you, mate?” says Niall, perking up and joining the conversation.

The room breaks out into a chorus of voices, all three of the boys tossing out arguments, before they get called in to grab microphones and get on stage.

“For the record,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear on their way, “You had me had the moment you said ‘oops’, too.”

\--

Harry’s sleep-whispered promise of ‘eventually’ ends up being two weeks later when they’re sharing a room in London doing some recording. On the one hand, Louis is thrilled, because those few nights in Brighton spent sharing a room with the other three boys was nice, but also awful. ([Niall’s sleepwalking tweet](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/25164794159955968), case in point; Louis would like the record to show that he has never sleep walked and it’s not his fault he thought Niall was Harry.) On the other hand, Louis is no more composed than he had been two weeks ago when he originally made his announcement.

Which is why he’s spent the last five minutes frantically googling lube flavors while Zayn, Niall, and Harry get their hair cut. It’s also why earlier in that week, he’d spent another five minutes frantically buying condoms in the most surreptitious way possible--i.e. he’d had to have the ‘mum I’d really like to sleep with Harry...yes _that_ Harry’ conversation, and had consequently been unable to look her in the eye since. The point being, Louis has a limited window of time to get his googling out of the way before Harry returns, and he’s going to make the most of it.

He calls Liam.

“Louis, I’m in the room next door--why are you calling me?” says Liam.

“Do you think Harry would prefer strawberry or banana flavored lube?” says Louis.

“Do I _what_?” shouts Liam, sounding more than a little panicked.

“Quick, Liam, I don’t have much time--Haz just texted me a photo of himself sans his usual curly locks.”

“No he didn’t,” Tiamat mutters, from underneath his legs. “He looks lovely. In fact, tell him that.”

Louis ignores her in favor of whining at Liam. “Liam, _please_!”

“I don’t--why are you asking _me_?” Liam says shrilly.

Louis opens his mouth and then closes it, before narrowing his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he says, closing out of a tab on Amazon and pursing his lips. “And who else am I supposed to ask, Liam. Niall and Zayn are off grooming Harry.”

“First of all, no one is grooming Harry except for the professionals,” Liam points out reasonably. “And second of all why would you even ask Niall and Zayn? Or me?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, obviously you’re not my first choice, Liam,” he says, equally reasonably, and totally undeserving of Liam’s sputter. “But be it that Zayn can’t keep a secret to save his life and Niall would just laugh at me, you were my only option.”

He’s still not forgiven Zayn for texting Niall about his plans to seduce Harry, never mind that Niall’s advice had been good. Also, he can’t risk Harry knowing something’s up, and calling Niall or Zayn instead of Harry would be a surefire way to let him know something is up. Hence, he called Liam.

“I’m a very reasonable person,” Louis says out loud to Tiamat. “I don’t know why no one ever seems to notice.”

“Harry seems to notice,” his daemon says, lips quirking. “Harry notices _everything_.”

Louis swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Well I should hope Harry didn’t notice the whole condom fiasco,” he manages.

Liam stops mid sentence. “I’m sorry?” he says finally. “Run that by me again?”

“Condoms, Liam,” says Louis. “Little thing that’s useful for taking someone’s virginity. Or losing it, I guess--but is Harry a virgin, you think?”

Liam sounds a bit pained. “Why don’t you ask Harry?” he asks. “Seeing as he’s the one um. Well.” He’s probably blushing.

Louis cackles quietly to himself. “On the receiving end, as it were?” he puts in helpfully. When Liam makes an affirming noise, he adds, “Why, Liam, how forward of you. For all you know Harry will be the one doing the shagging.”

There’s a slight pause. “The sweet romantic love making, you mean?” says Liam. “Also, get the banana,” he adds and then hangs up.

Louis is left frowning at his computer screen and listening to a dial tone. “He hung up on me,” he tells Tiamat. “Also, Niall Horan is a traitor.”

Tiamat flicks her tail a few times in response. “Mmm,” she says. “Do we have to buy it now?”

Louis rolls his eyes and gets up to find a beanie and the room keycard. “Unless you know of cheap websites that will ship lube surreptitiously and quickly to random hotels in London, yes,” he says.

“Surreptitiously,” Tiamat repeats. “What is it with you and that word?” She gets to her feet. “It’s almost like you heard Liana and Harry discussing it a few days ago.”

Louis flushes a little and pulls on his shoes. “You shut your mouth,” he snaps. “Now come on, if we hurry, we can sneak out with no one noticing.”

They do the full on James Bond creep all the way down the hallway and into the lift, before Tiamat sighs and points out, “We’re not nearly as famous as you seem to think we are, Tomlinson. And stop ‘shh’ing me,” but they also manage to buy three different types of banana flavored lube (and Louis has never been happier that the shop assistant was an adult man), so it’s not a complete loss. Also, Harry happens to think Louis would make a fabulous James Bond.

\--

Louis’ had the lube and the condoms for three days now, and he’s slowly going out of his mind. It’s not like he doesn’t know Harry is interested, either. Harry is very definitely interested--not only had he gone out of his way to _mention_ how he was interested, but he’s also taken to touching Louis constantly. And biting his lip. And generally being the most attractive thing to walk this earth. It’s doing wonders for Louis’ self control.

Which is probably why he decides that the obvious solution to his Harry problem is to do a twitcam. He’s high off some sort of nervous energy, still giggling about their lunch date at TGI Fridays, and far too jittery to spend the night lying in the bed he and Harry have been sharing for the past few days in the dark. So he gets on Twitter, makes some offhand tweet, and then goes to hassle Harry into doing the thing with him.

“Hazza,” he whines, leaning over on the bed to bat his eyelashes at Harry. Harry’s got his own computer open on his lap, beanie on his head, and is using Tiamat as a footrest. Possibly, that explains the nervous energy humming under Louis’ skin.

“Yeah?” Harry doesn’t look up from whatever it is he’s doing.

“Have you checked Twitter?” Louis asks him, because baby steps. He’s already made the tweet, anyway, so he can always guilt Harry into it. But, no. Louis should absolutely not guilt Harry into anything, not especially since he’s got three bottles of lube and a few condoms burning a hole in his jean pockets.

Harry colors slightly, for some reason. “Um, maybe?” he says.

Louis grins at him. “That a question, Harold?”

Harry finally looks away from his computer screen to roll his eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re even asking me, _Lewis_ ,” he says. “Seeing as you’ve already tweeted about it.”

Louis can’t quite help the flash of guilt he’s sure goes across his face.

Harry looks taken aback. “I’m fine with it, of course, though,” he says quickly. “I’d love to do a twitcam with you.” He’s looking at Louis like he always looks at Louis, in that soft, fond way that Louis is certain will never get old, and the butterflies from the days before are back with a vengeance.

He glances down at his own laptop. “Okay, good,” he says. “Especially since they’ve done it.”

He goes to turn the computer around so that Harry can see the number of retweets, but Harry stops. “I, um, see,” he says. “I’ve, erm, got your page open already.”

Louis blinks. “I’m sorry?” he says, trying to reach down so he can surreptitiously close his own tab of Harry’s Twitter profile. Damn. He does keep using that word.

On the other bed, Tiamat has crawled up behind Harry so that she can stare at the screen, and Louis looks at her questioningly.

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly, even as Tiamat nods. He’s definitely blushing now, and Louis has to bite his tongue to hide his answering smile.

“Are you sure?” He leans across the way to put a hand on the other bed and poke Harry in the cheek a few times. He can’t have Harry blushing on camera--certainly not a blush Louis caused. “Harry?” he prompts. “Haz? Harold?” He keeps poking on each nickname, until Harry’s laughing at him and setting his laptop down on the bed.

“Positive,” he says, breathlessly. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and pauses, so that Louis’ hand is just barely touching his left thigh. “Hi.”

Louis swallows. “That a yes?”

Harry shakes his head at him and stands up, picking up his laptop as he goes.

Louis pulls his hand back, throat dry despite all the swallowing, and watches warily as Harry climbs onto their bed. He’s in the stupid beanie with his curls pressed down against his forehead and his multitude of bracelets and armbands, and he is by far the most attractive thing Louis has ever seen.

Tiamat doesn’t give either of them warning before launching herself onto the bed between them, startling Liana, who grumbles sleepily and pushes her head farther into Louis’ pillow. “Wanker,” she mumbles.

Tiamat rests her head on top of her. Louis thinks that is unfairly cute. It’s also not helping with his nerves, but it does take the edge of slightly. It’s always nice to be able to feel Harry in some way, whether it be directly, or faintly through his connection to Tiamat. He exhales deeply.

“Are you ready?” says Harry, interrupting his thoughts.

When Louis turns back to him, Harry’s got the laptop balanced on the bed in front of them, angled so that he captures him and Louis, and just the edge of Tiamat looming in the background. Liana is just barely visible in the corner, very obviously under Tiamat’s head.

Louis’ daemon blinks back at him from the webcam window. “I don’t want to be in the thing,” she says, a bit petulantly.

“Your chin is really hard,” says Liana, equally petulantly.

Tiamat licks her consolingly and Louis’ skin very suddenly feels too tight for his body.

“Louis?” Harry’s got his lip worried red again. Louis’ starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

“Yes, Harry?” he says slowly, before his brain catches up with him. “I mean, yes. Ready.” He looks at the screen again for a moment. Tiamat has stopped grooming Liana, but now they’re both practically sleeping, and something about that feels too intimate for the public. “Actually, no, hang on. I’ll turn it on and you can get up and like, walk in.” He doesn’t say that doing that will prevent their viewers from seeing Liana and Tiamat, but Harry seems to get that implicitly.

He smiles over at him, before saying, “But why, Louis?” because he wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t give Louis some kind of hell.

“Do not question me, Harold,” Louis says, moving the laptop on the bed so it can see the door of their hotel room. “Now, go.”

Harry gets up and goes, still grinning and looking at Louis like Louis is the sun, and stands by the door. “Ready.”

Louis gets to his feet and turns on the livestream at the same time, so that the first thing the fans can see is him and Harry entering the frame. And also the actual sun, since the light in their hotel room is that blinding.

“That’s not going to work,” says Tiamat, from over Louis’ shoulder. The chatbox on the side lights up with a whole slew of exclamations about ‘Tiamat’ and ‘Ti’. Louis bites down on the urge to snap at them for using her nickname. Instead, he turns to look at her.

“You can’t even see the bloody screen,” he says. “How would you know?”

“I always know,” says Tiamat. “Always.”

Liana yawns. “It’s true,” she says. “She does.”

Louis flushes a little on Harry’s behalf and tries to angle the computer a bit to fix the light. Several fans very loudly take the time to address their daemon’s exchange, a few of them with rather telling usernames going on about how it’s adorable that Liana stands up for Tiamat. Louis agrees, but again, complete strangers using their nicknames. He supposes he’ll have to get used to that, since it’d probably be even stranger if complete strangers went on about ‘Harry Styles and his otter daemon Aeliana’.

Harry shuffles awkwardly onto the bed and tries to block the light. “Does this help?”

Louis isn’t sure why, but he grabs Harry about the jaw and back of the head and holds his head in place. “This works,” he says. “Just don’t move.”

He might be imagining it, but possibly Harry’s dick twitches in response to that. But then, Louis is very pointedly _not_ looking at Harry’s dick, so it’s probably his imagination.

“It isn’t,” Liana mumbles, for Louis’ ears only. The webcam doesn’t pick it up, luckily, and Louis saves face by flicking on a few lamps to try to help.

Harry gets up and gets the light in question, which does nothing but put the room into sudden darkness.

“Yay,” says Liana. “I can finally sleep.”

Louis’ first response is to snap at her, but Harry not so subtly stops him by saying, “Has that helped?”

Right. For all intents and purposes, they’re in public, and Louis can’t do that in public. He couldn’t even if they were publicly dating. He licks his lips.

“Nah, it’s too dark,” he tells Harry. “Let’s just--” And he moves the laptop, keeping Tiamat and Liana out of the screen, before settling cross-legged in front of it. “Hi, everybody.”

Harry comes and flops down next to him. “Hello,” he says, brightly, smiling at the screen. He’s not even doing anything other than that, but already Louis’ heart rate has doubled and Tiamat is side-eyeing him.

To distract himself, Louis says something he hopes comes across as sarcastic, and Harry goes a bit sparkly behind the eyes. Louis supposes it was too much to have hoped that Harry would tone down the besotted looks while on camera. But then again, it appears Louis himself is incapable of doing the same.

He’s not entirely sure why he ends up pushing Harry of the bed, prank calling at least two people, accidentally giving away Matt Cardle’s phone number, or deciding to play both _Teenage Dream_  and _Just The Way You Are_ , but he does, and Harry laughs and giggles and refuses to push him off the bed.

Louis is about three seconds from making up an excuse to turn the webcam off so that he can push Harry _onto_ the bed and ravish him, when Niall arrives.

“Hey,” he says when Louis opens the door. “Are you on Twitter?”

Harry has the quick reflexes to turn off the webcam, and Louis tries very hard to smile. “Hey, Niall,” he says, opening the door wider. “And Liam. And Zayn.”

After he says each of their names, the other lads visibly perk up and smile at him. Liam, at least, has the good graces to look somewhat apologetic, and when Louis turns to look at her, Bethania wags her tail a few times.

“You going to let us in?” says Niall, after a moment.

Louis wonders if he can say no.

“Please?” Niall gives him puppy dog eyes that make Bethania’s pale in comparison.

Louis sighs and lets them into the room. Which is how Harry and Louis end up having to entertain most of the other boys for what he’s very officially calling ‘seven minutes in hell’. Technically it’s only been about three, but Louis’ decided he’s not going to let it last beyond seven. One, for pun related reasons, and two, because he’s got _three bottles of lube and a few condoms burning a hole in his jean pockets_.

“Hey, Liam,” he says, interrupting Niall, who had been speaking.

Naturally the group all looks a bit taken aback, since there is an unspoken rule of not interrupting Niall, but before anyone can say anything, Louis pushes on.

“Remember when I was talking to you about strawberries and bananas?” he says, wincing as Fikriyya takes the moment to swat at Tiamat in response. Eirian looks more surprised than anything, but Tiamat pads over to headbutt her a few times anyway.

Liam looks confused. “Um, no?” he says.

“I like bananas,” says Harry. “They’re very nice.”

It appears to dawn on Liam as Harry’s speaking and he goes very bright red. “Oh,” he says. His eyes fall down to Louis’ lap. “ _Oh_.”

Louis takes Liam’s random perving in stride. “Oh,” he agrees.

“Right, so, lads,” says Liam. “I just remembered a thing Louis was telling me about. Um. Smoothies?”

Louis has no idea where Liam is going with this, but he plays along. “Yes, smoothies,” he says. “Tell them, Payno.” When Niall and Zayn turn to look at Liam, Louis catches his eyes across the circle they’ve made on the bed to mouth ‘smoothies?’ at Liam.

Harry just looks sourly at the bedspread.

“Yeah, he, um. Showed me a new way to make one with strawberries and bananas.”

The whites of Bethania’s eyes are showing a little, but she adds, “we decided that the banana ones were better.”

Louis nods. “Much better--I’m rubbish at strawberries.”

“I want a banana smoothie,” Harry says, a bit petulantly.

Liam looks a bit desperately at Louis. “I can make you one, Haz,” he says.

Harry refuses to look up from the bed. “I want Louis to make me one,” he says, still petulant.

Something in Louis’ stomach flip-flops pleasantly.

Liana crawls up Harry’s chest so that she can hiss in his ear, something about Harry being worse than the time with the chopsticks, but Louis is a bit distracted by Liam having a very rapid conversation with Niall and Zayn with his eyes. When that fails, Bethania very subtly crawls across the bed to whisper in Fi and Eirian’s ears.

Niall and Zayn jump to their feet. “Smoothies,” says Niall. “I think I’d like to try one of those, lads.”

“Me too,” says Zayn, but he’s smirking at Louis and Fi hasn’t stopped giggling. “I hear they’ve lovely.”

“Has everyone had one of Louis’ smoothies but me?” Harry mumbles, poking at his own sock.

Louis tries not to be charmed by him.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem after tonight, Harry,” says Zayn.

Louis is most definitely _not_ charmed by Zayn. Gorgeous cheekbones aside.

“How do you mean?” Harry tilts his head to the side a little and looks up at Zayn through his lashes.

Zayn looks like he’s considering kissing him.

Louis contemplates murder.

“Why don’t you let Louis explain,” Liam interjects before either of these things can happen. “Yeah?”

Harry turns his full attention to Louis and bloody--he pouts. “Lou?”

Louis wets his lips. “Haz,” he says.

He’s vaguely aware of the other boys shuffling out of the room and shutting the door, but it’s much more interesting to watch Harry stew in his irrational jealousy. Harry starts talking, but Louis is a bit distracted. He thinks he should feel bad but mostly it’s just exhilarating to know that he has that effect on Harry.  Also it’s mostly just amusing, because if anything, Louis should be the one getting irrationally jealous. He’s the one dating ‘Harry Styles’, after all.

“--and you know I like bananas,” Harry is in the middle of saying. Louis shakes his head a few times to try to find the beginning of that sentence.

“Harry,” he says eventually. “The smoothies were lube.”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Excuse me?” he says.

Louis’ stomach does another flip at how reflexively polite he is and he has to fight to stay on track. “I called Liam earlier because I wanted to know what flavor lube to buy,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and dumps the three little bottles on the bed in front of him. Tiamat and Liana both visibly perk up. “And now it occurs to me that you don’t even want flavored lube, since God knows we’re not going to be tasting it the first time around, but--”

Louis breaks off when Harry reaches out and picks up one of the bottles. It’s the misleading bubblegum pink one that Louis liked the most, based on that fact alone. He can only watch as Harry uncaps the tube, squeezes a bit out onto his finger, and brings that finger to his lips. “Hmm,” he says, brows crinkling. “It does taste like banana. Well. Like banana _flavored_ things.”

Louis’ stomach drops. “Is that not good?”

Harry still has finger in his mouth when he speaks. “Mmm, well. Banana flavored things never taste like actual bananas,” he explains, like they’re discussing world politics or something equally serious.

Louis tries to see the gravity in the situation, but he’s finding it very hard to concentrate on anything but the way Harry’s lips move around the digit in his mouth. Also, he’s can’t quite remember how to breathe properly. “Ah, bollocks,” he says. “And here I thought I wouldn’t have to ruin this evening by murdering someone. False advertising is a crime punishable by death, you know.”

Harry takes his finger out of his mouth to laugh at him, a sudden barking string of amusement that does nothing to help Louis with the whole breathing thing.

“God, Haz, please let me--”

Harry’s eyes go a bit dark and he crawls forward on the bed. “Let you do what?” he says. “Fuck me?”

Louis makes an aborted little groan, because while that phrase had just sounded crass on Niall’s lips, on Harry’s it makes him dizzy and more than a little mindless. He grabs Harry by the back of the neck and hauls him in. “You can’t say things like that when I’ve got lube and a condom in my pocket, Harry,” he says against his mouth.

Harry reaches a hand down to press against the hard-line of Louis’ cock. “That’s not the only thing you’ve got in your pocket,” he says.

Louis is in love with an idiot. “Harry,” he says, grudgingly amused. The effect is somewhat lost by the fact that Harry has started to undo Louis’ flies and slip a hand into his boxers.

“Louis,” Harry retorts. “Come on, it’s been _weeks_.” He emphasizes that last word by giving Louis’ cock a squeeze, thumb pressing gently over the head and making Louis’ breath hiss out of his throat.

Harry is no stranger to Louis’ dick, just as Louis is no stranger to Harry’s, and so it’s no time at all until they’re naked and rutting against each other on the bed. Tiamat and Liana are God-knows-where, and normally Louis would be more concerned because he’s found that touching Liana’s spine _just so_ has the added bonus of making Harry rock hard in seconds, but not this time. This time, it’s about him and Harry, and yes the intimacy of souls is always nice, but Louis doesn’t want any shortcuts this time.

“Love you so much,” Louis says against Harry’s lips, fingers pressing bruises into the bare skin of his back. “So, so, so much--Haz.”

Harry whines, hips moving faster, and then suddenly he stops.

Louis is not proud of the noise he makes. “Harry,” he tries to protest.

Harry makes a desperate noise and goes to reach for Louis’ hand, and then seems to think better of it before reaching down to wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock.

Louis’ throat goes even drier. 

“Sorry.” Harry is very pointedly not looking at anyone. He’s got a flush high across his chest and all the way down his belly, but the one splashing across his cheeks is embarrassment, not arousal.

Louis reaches out to pet one of his cheeks. “I love you,” he tells  Harry. “That doesn’t change.”

For a moment Harry stares back at him blankly, before his jaw snaps shut and he leans back to grab the abandoned tube of lube. “I should hope not,” he says. “What kind of boyfriend would you be if you left me because of the less than stellar sex?”

Louis’ mind gets a bit tripped up on Harry’s use of the word ‘boyfriend’, as always, but he manages to argue. “What makes you so sure it’s going to be less than stellar?” he starts to ask.

Harry raises an eyebrow, slicks up two of his fingers, and then reaches down between his legs.

Louis’ words die in his throat. “Oh,” he says. “Um.”

Harry’s got his eyes closed and his head thrown back. “What?” he says, voice cracking attractively in the middle. “Did you think I wasn’t going to practice? Wanted to be good and ready for you-- _Lou_.”

Louis isn’t sure, but he thinks Harry adds another finger when he gets to his name. “Not so--um,” he says, deer-in-the headlights, and trying to tell Harry not to go too fast. From the blissed out look on his face, that’s not going to be a problem.

“You were saying?” Harry sounds unbearable smug.

“Nothing,” Louis says. “You. Erm.”

Harry’s hips fuck down reflexively. “Mhmm,” he says. “Practice makes perfect.”

Louis nods before he can help himself, before a thought occurs to him. “Wait, does that mean...?” he asking, trailing off. He doesn’t want to say the word dildo, but all he can think is the word dildo.

Harry blinks open his eyes and smirks at him. He’s fucking himself on two fingers now. “What do you think?” he says.

Louis doesn’t know what to say. “I think,” he tries, eyes trailing down Harry’s torso to his cock, curved up against his stomach and leaking. “I think--”

Harry finds his prostate with a high whine, and whatever hold there’d been on Louis’ body snaps.

He’s off his arse in several seconds, reaching down with his own fingers to find where Harry’s disappear inside himself.

Harry groans, other hand fumbling to open the lube and dropping it down to drizzle a bit onto Louis’ index finger, and then he’s got three fingers inside himself and one of those is Louis’.

Louis is so hard he can’t think straight.

“So, condom,” he says after a few painful moments, voice a bit high pitched. “Where’s the condom.”

Harry gives him a look.

Louis follows his line of sight to the little foil sitting where he left it over on the bed. “Right.” He has to pull his hand free to grab it, and Harry makes this terrible little noise in response. “Right, yes, alright,” Louis mutters to himself, fumbling it open and rolling it down his cock. “Patience is a virtue, Harry.”

Harry just reaches out with a lube slick hand to help. “Patience isn’t a virtue when you could have been inside me _ages_ ago,” he says. He takes his fingers out of himself and pushes Louis back on the bed, head tilted considering. “Do you think I could ride you?”

He doesn’t give Louis time to answer before he’s sinking down, eyes blown wide and bottom lip caught between his teeth.  Louis’ hands come up reflexively to steady him about the hips and keep him from moving too fast, and Harry whines.

“Louis,” he demands, shifting awkwardly and then hissing.

“Slow,” Louis tells him, petting over the skin of Harry’s hips and trying not to come. He’s not even all the way inside Harry and already he feels lightheaded.

Harry just makes a growling noise at him and drops both his hands down on Louis’ shoulders, breath stuttering in his chest, until Louis’ hips meet his arse.

Wow. Louis has no words to describe how that feels. “Wow,” he says.

Harry looks a bit pained, brow furrowing as he gets used to the stretch, and Louis has no idea what to do with his hands. He settles for resting them on Harry’s hips again, thumbs rubbing in soothing circles.

“I think,” Harry starts to say, shifting a bit in Louis’ lap. “I think you can move, now.”

Louis makes a wounded noise and fucks his hips up, biting hard onto his own lip. Over Harry’s shoulder, he can see Tiamat and Liana over on the other bed, curled into a tight ball whispering. Before he can do more than glance them, though, Harry plants his knees on the bed and lifts.

After that, Louis’ thoughts get a bit lost in the sweet slide of his cock inside Harry and the press of their lips.

“I love you,” he manages to say.

“I love you too,” says Harry.

\--

After that, they’re more than a little insufferable, but every time Liam so much as looks pained at them, Louis is quick to remind him that he and Harry are soulmates. “You wouldn’t want to get in the way of soulmates,” he’s taken to saying. Liam can’t really argue with soulmates.

The day they’re set to fly into Los Angeles for the first time, Louis is in the middle of explaining this to Liam yet again, even as his bandmate worries over the logistics of flying with Bethania. Louis’ never really been out of the country much, and while he’d known there were extensive laws and searches and specifics about traveling with a large daemon, he also hadn’t really had much experience with _having_ a large daemon. The first time he got in a car with Tiamat post-X-Factor had been jarring, to put it lightly. He’d been with his mum, so she’d had to sit in the back, and not seeing her out of the corner of his eye made him far jumpier than any driving test of threat of an accident ever could.

By the time they  reach the information desk at Heathrow, Louis is exhausted. But it’s an eleven hour flight to LAX and Louis’ most definitely going to sleep on it. He’ll be in one of the larger seats specifically for people with larger daemons, and while it does mean he has to work to get Harry near him, at least Tiamat’s not a horse or summat. ‘Cause like, hooves. And eleven hours.

They both shudder just thinking about it.

The five of them end up checking their bags and waiting somewhat awkwardly in the airport for a bit, and Louis realizes that he’s not the only one who’s anxious.

“I’ve never flown before,” Zayn is saying. Louis can tell he’s meant to be talking only to Fikriyya, but Zayn’s daemon doesn’t appear to be much help.

She’s practically inside his shirt, nothing more than a bright stripe of fluffy tail somewhere around his right hip.

Zayn looks more than a little nauseous.

Louis should be a nice person.

“You okay, mate?” he says. If Zayn seems particularly anxious, he’ll curb the jokes.

“Nah, I’m fine,” says Zayn.

Louis wonders if he should mention the fact that he did hear him telling Fi the opposite.

“Are you sure, Zayn?” says Liam, looking incredibly concerned. Good old Liam, always looking out for everyone’s well-being. Louis really has to get on with corrupting him. He meets Harry’s eyes over where the other boy’s standing with Niall, trying to talk him down. Niall and crowds don’t tend to mix very well, and while they haven’t been mobbed much per se, it’s still a bit startling to have random girls shouting your name and asking for photos.

“Liam?” Bless Harry. “Come here a sec?”

Liam looks at Zayn one last time with worry in his eyes, but he heads over to Niall and Harry.

Louis drapes an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. He’s very careful not to touch Fi. “Have you flown before, Zayner?”

Zayn looks at him sideways. “Have you?”

Louis is impressed. “Touché,” he says.

Zayn shakes his head and say something about how it was an honest question.

Louis talks over him. “No, but you’ll be fine, Malik.”

He casts an eye over where their handlers are handling all the necessary arrangements for Louis, Niall, and Liam. Which--Louis’ an idiot, _Eirian_ has hooves. He tries to look on the bright side, because at least she’s small? God, what would the world be like if people didn’t have daemons, and had to squish into unbearable tiny spaces on planes. He shudders.

“--It’s more the newness than anything else,” Zayn appears to be saying. “And, I mean, I can’t swim, so.”

Louis pulls away and points at him. “Right, yes, I remember that,” he says. They’d gone swimming at the bungalow, and Zayn’d mostly stayed on the sidelines prompting Tiamat with sea creatures to see if he could stump her. (He hadn’t.)

“Well, I mean the Atlantic’s only part of the journey,” Louis points out, trying for helpful. “We’ll be over America for most of it--so I guess unless we land in a pool or something you should be fine.” That doesn’t sound all that comforting, now that he says it. “And if anything happens I’ll save you,” he very quickly adds.

Zayn smiles at him. “Thanks, Lou,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased.

Louis almost feels bad for adding, “besides the big thing is the loop de loop for takeoff.”

“Loop de loop?” Zayn says hoarsely, at the same moment Harry arrives next to them.

“We’re ready to go,” he tells them both. “Loop de loop?”

Louis very frantically tries to convey to Harry just how important it is he doesn’t blow his cover.

“Yeah,” he tells him. “You know, right after takeoff.” He mimes a loop de loop with his hands.

Harry nods slowly. “Yes, of course,” he says, equally slowly. “But we have to go?”

Louis grabs him by the arm and starts following Liam and Niall and their handlers, even as Zayn looks more than a little concerned about the information he’s just been given. Liam can handle  it. As long as he doesn’t tell him otherwise. In fact, Louis shoots Tiamat a look and sends her off to bite Bethania should Liam even attempt to spill the beans.

“Loop de loops, Lou?” Harry sounds amused.

Louis grins at him. “That’s a lot of ‘lous’ in that sentence.”

Harry snorts. “Good thing there’s only one Lou in the band,” he says. “I think Liam would never sleep.”

Louis waves a hand. “I’d make an awful twin, anyway,” he says. “Or, would I be a clone, you think?

Instead of looking confused by his rambling, Harry just looks charmed. Which is unfair, since Harry is literally the most charming person Louis’ ever met. “Twin,” he decides. “But loop de loops?”

Louis looks back at where Zayn is now whispering furiously to Fikriyya, since Liam’s left to chat with Niall, who looks a little less green. Louis thinks he’ll go hug him a moment. “He’s not thinking about us falling to our doom now?”

Harry appears to think that over. “True, but now he’s going to spend the entire takeoff waiting for us to do a loop de loop.”

Louis’ lips twitch. “I know,” he says. “Now help me go hug Niall.”

\--

“You are an awful person,” Zayn says once they’ve landed, gone through customs, been photographed, and are safely en route to the hotel. “I can’t believe you told me that.”

Louis just grins at him, and looks around at the boys. “So, breakfast?” he says. “Anyone?”

Zayn sighs. “I’ll get you back for that,” he tells Louis. “Just you wait.”

“I could do breakfast,” says Niall, setting aside his phone. “The weather’s so nice.” He goes to roll down a window. Liam appears to wake up to protest that plan of action, and Zayn weighs in begrudgingly.

“Los Angeles,” says Harry, leaning in close to Louis to be heard over the other boys’ bickering. “What do you think?”

Louis looks around at the city as it blurs past them. “Eh,” he says. “It’s just a place, Harry.”

Harry looks disappointed, for some reason. “Oh,” he says. “I thought you’d be excited.”

Louis leans forward so that he can look him in the eyes. “I am excited,” he says, perfectly aware that Tiamat has ceased grooming Liana to listen in on their conversation. “We’re in _America_ , Hazza. To meet with producers and _record an album_. Like, I’m bouncing off the walls type excited.”

Harry shrugs at him. “Okay?”

“Not ‘cause it’s LA, though,” Louis continues. “Because it’s with you.”

Harry blinks. “Me?”

“And Niall, and Liam, and Zayn, and everyone else along for this ride,” Louis says. “We could be in the bloody middle of nowhere doing the same things and I’d still be excited.”

The other boys have stopped talking and are grinning around at each other.

“Aw, Tommo,” says Niall. “We love you too, man.”

Eirian makes an odd bleating noise and butts her head against Tiamat, who flicks her tail lazily at Bethania in turn.

“I’d say group hug, but,” Louis says, letting the sentence trail off at the end.

“It’s not like we’re likely to get hurt for the ten seconds it’d take to hug ,” Tiamat points out.

Louis winces, because he hasn’t forgotten the way Liam went board stiff the first time Liana crawled onto Louis mid game of FIFA and asked if he wanted sauce on his pasta. (Harry’d been in the kitchen.)

Finally Liam breaks the lull. “I dunno,” he says. “Maybe we’ll end up doing a loop de loop and therefore regret taking off our seat belts.”

In the resulting silence, Louis very carefully amends his to-do-list to read: _continue_ to corrupt Liam and also bring out his wild side.

Zayn is the first to recover. “Oh, piss off,” he says, but he sounds amused. “I’ll have you know that Louis is bloody convincing.”

Louis give his best doe eyes. “This is true, I am very convincing,” he says. “Tell them, Hazza.”

He hits Harry on the shoulder when he doesn’t speak. “Ow, um,” Harry says, startled. “Louis is the most convincing person I’ve ever met.”

Louis nods along.

“Once he convinced me to, uh.” Harry shoots Liana a quick look, and she shakes her head.

“Don’t you dare say that,” she hisses. “Say things, or something, but don’t say _that._ ”

Even Louis isn’t sure what Harry was going to say, but it must be scandalous, if even Shameless-Styles is pink thinking about it.

Harry seems to get his bearings. “Things,” he says. “Louis...Louis convinced me to do...things--that sounds even worse, thanks, Li.”

“You’re welcome,” says Liam, even though they all know Harry was talking to Liana. “And Louis promises to never mislead you again, Zayn.”

Louis starts shaking his head behind Liam’s back before he finishes, muttering, ‘Louis promises no such thing,’and then pastes  smile on his face when Zayn looks at him. “Of course, Zayn, you can trust me.”

“I vote group Tommo tackle,” says Zayn.

Liam wastes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt. “Deal.”

“Wait, hang on,” Louis tries to protest, before the boys fling themselves across the seats so that they can all grab a piece of him in the most awkward and probably dangerous group hug.

“Why am I included in this pile?” says Harry, from where he’s buried somewhere to Louis’ left.

“Because you’re like Louis’ long-lost missing third arm,” explains Niall. “Also, I didn’t want to reach all the way across.”

Zayn and Liam make humming noises in agreement. “Reasonable,” says Zayn.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” says Harry.

“Louis, please stop biting me,” says Liam.

Louis spits out Liam’s shirt and fixes his eyes on his band. “If you’re all quite finished, lads,” he says. “I think we have an album to record.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full daemon list can be found on my tumblr [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau), and feel free to come say hi!
> 
> I'm shooting for weekly updates (February is already finished and March is coming along) as well as doing the later years, permitting. See you next Saturday!


	2. February 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s part two! Sorry for the time delay--real life, and all. Betated by Marta (who is the best since she basically demanded that I not half-ass this and made me rewrite most of it.) and Vic. Britpicked by Jess who is lovely as always. (Very eye opening conversations about consent laws and culture were had.) All other mistakes are my own. Also the spellings. Forgive me.
> 
> I added a daemon primer to the start of chapter one (and also 2010) because I realized I probably needed one. That can be found [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonprimer). Daemon list has also been updated.
> 
> Enjoy!

**February 2011**

\--

Louis has a bit of a crisis the day before  Harry’s seventeenth birthday. He’s not really sure why he’s even having it, but he is. They’re back in the UK, finally, and are about to go into rehearsals for the X-Factor Live Tour, so technically Louis doesn’t have any time for anything beyond _Forever Young_ and _Viva La Vida_ and all their other songs. But the day before Harry’s seventeenth birthday, he’s called in for meetings with Liam and Niall to discuss security measures and mobbing at airports.

It’s awkward; above all Louis hates feeling like some sort of diva, but he’s not about to let Niall try to pass off his claustrophobia and the fact that Eirian had nearly _fainted_ as not a big deal. Also, while all five of them had managed half-arsed laughter upon reaching the car, he knows for a fact neither Harry nor Zayn had managed to stop touching their daemons since.

So the day before Harry’s seventeenth finds Louis hammering out the logistics of being in the public eye and having a large daemon. And being that the discussion very quickly turns legal (there are, in fact, a whole slew of laws put into place to prevent people from accidentally touching the daemons of the rich and famous), Louis himself comes to a very terrifying conclusion: Harry might not be legal, and Louis most definitely slept with him.

Needless to say, Liam and Niall end up having to carry the rest of the conversation.

 “Lou, are you okay?” Liam asks him, on their way out of the offices. “You went a bit dull in the eyes, there.”

“Liam?” Louis grips him by the shoulders and stares frantically into his eyes. “Do you think they’ll arrest me?”

Liam blinks. “What?”

“They can’t do that, can they?” He shakes Liam. “Or can they? Technically I’m an adult. God, Liam, I’m not cut out for prison.”

“What are you on about?” says Niall. “Tommo?”

Louis turns to face him equally frantically. “And I mean it was entirely consensual so maybe there’s hope?” He shakes Niall a bit as well.

“Louis.” When did Tiamat get there? “The age of consent is sixteen. We learned this in school--what are you on about--?”

Louis freezes.

“Oh my God,” says Liam. He very quietly puts his face in his palm. “Are we still on your whole sex with Harry thing?” he says, under his breath. “Because I’ve not actually forgiven you for that, Lou.”

Louis ignores him in favor of addressing Tiamat. “Is it?” Louis is aware that his voice is very high, but he’s ignoring that. He’d like everyone else to ignore it as well.

“Yep.” Tiamat rolls her eyes. “Now, can we go, please?”

Louis nods mechanically and starts working. Then he stops, turning on Liam and Niall. “Neither of you are to mention this to Harry,” he says.

Liam mimes zipping his lips.

Niall just stares back at him. “Okay,”  he says. “But not tomorrow. It’s Haz’s birthday--if he asks me, I’m going to have to tell him.”

“Oh, yeah, it is Harry’s birthday, isn’t it?” says Liam, like he doesn’t know. “ _Now_ it all makes sense.” He smirks. “That why you were shitting bricks, Tommo?”

“You know what? Piss off,” Louis tells them both. “See if I leave you anything in my will.”

“Are you planning on dying anytime soon?” says Liam, falling into stride next to him on his left.

“What’ve you got that we don’t have, anyway?” contributes Niall, from the right.

Louis hides a grin and starts a loud discussion about the specific roles each of them play in the band. (If he somewhat frantically googles consent laws in the UK as soon as he gets back to the hotel, no one has to know about it.)

\--

Louis receives exactly six messages during the car ride, all from Harry:

_So what’s this about consent laws?_

_Lou_

_I  wouldn’t let them take you to prison_

_Your dick is too nice for prison_

_(Actually I love you too much)_

_Lou?_

He sends exactly one back:

_Love you too._

It is at this point that Niall confiscates his phone.

“Your dick is too nice for prison,” he reads, eyebrows raising, even as Louis squawks and protests and tries in vain to get the thing back. “I dunno--what do you think, Li?” Niall lowers the phone, and both he and Liam spend a few awkward seconds staring pointedly at the jean-covered dick in question.

At Louis’ dick. They spend way too many seconds staring at Louis’ dick. “What do you mean--of course it is!” Louis manages, more embarrassed about the latter half of the conversation than the first. “Niall!”

Niall goes to read the rest of the conversation out loud, but he stops. His eyebrows raise even higher. “Oh,” he says, handing Louis his mobile. “Um.”

Louis very quickly locks it and stuffs it in his pocket. “Say nothing,” he tells him, voice more than a little shrill.

Niall raises both of his hands. “On  my honor,” he says seriously. When Eirian says something about him not having any, he amends, “On my honor as an Irishman.”

Tiamat does the equivalent of arching one brow. “Is that supposed to make us feel better?” she says dryly.

Louis high fives her.

Niall looks unfazed. “Tommo just felt the need to prove how pretty his dick was,” he says, turning to Liam and making the poor man tasked with returning them to the hotel choke and try to regain control of the car.

Louis nods seriously. “To be fair, H already knows,” he concedes, “but you know me.”

Liam’s eyes dart between Louis’ face and his dick a few times.  “Do I?” he says, voice high.

“Mmm.” Louis drops his hands down into his lap and plays with his belt loops absently. “My reputation was at stake.”

He’s not entirely sure how he manages to keep a straight face for the next few seconds, but it’s only by sheer force of will that he and Niall spend them facing forward and not looking at each other.

“Right, um,” says Liam finally, voice high in the thick silence. “So, what do you guys think about the security precautions they’re taking--”

“I did not send Harry dick pics,” Louis interrupts him to say. “Please breathe, Liam, I hear that’s good for you.”

Liam sounds sour when he says, “I was breathing, Louis,” but when Louis turns to look at him, it’s all he can do not to break a rib laughing.

Niall is no better off, giggling helplessly into Eirian’s left side, while Bethania ruffles her ears and lifts her chin into the haughtiest position Louis’ ever seen her make.

“And you’re the oldest,” Liam tells them, disapproval coloring his tone.

Louis and Niall only laugh harder. “Hey may be the oldest, but--” Niall starts to say, gesturing wildly.

“Yes, alright,” Liam says over their laughter. “Can we stop talking about Louis’ dick, please?”

Niall snorts. “Do you want to be the one to tell Harry, Liam?” he says. “It’s his birthday, you can bet that all he’s going to want to talk about is Lou’s dick.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “He will not,” he says. “We’ve got dinner with his mum--do not say _anything_.”

Liam and Niall attempt to look innocent. Liam succeeds. Niall does not. Louis scowls at both of them.

“Hey, at least you don’t need an actual present, Tommo,” Niall points out, seemingly unfazed by Louis’ death glare.

Louis starts to glare harder, when what Niall’s said sinks in. “Hang on, present?” he says.

Tiamat pauses where she’d been grooming her foreleg to stare at him.

“What’d you end up getting him, anyway?” Liam asks Niall, ignoring Louis’ mild panic.

“Has everyone gotten Harry a present?” Louis asks the car at large, more than a little frantically. Before Niall had said anything, Louis had been focusing on the fact that he’d have to make eye contact with Harry’s mum having slept with her baby boy. Now, he’s mostly just stuck on the whole gift thing.

Tiamat sighs. “I did try to tell you,” she starts to say, and Louis shoots her a look,  because in all of his flying to Los Angeles and recording an album (which both Niall and Liam had been doing as well, Louis notes) he’s sort of forgotten that birthdays generally involve presents. And growing older, but to be fair, he’d also apparently forgotten about Harry’s age _in general_ and failed on the googling front.

Tiamat makes a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “It’s not like Harry would have had you arrested, Lou,” she says.

“Oh, are we still talking about how you and Harry had sex?” says Eirian, in response.

Niall just rolls his eyes. “People usually get presents on their birthday, Tommo,” he says. “Or were you a bit distracted with other things you could get Harry?”

Louis makes a face at him. “The lube definitely does _not_ count as a present,” he says. “Although I do have two extra tubes.” He frowns, thinking that over. “No, never mind, I cannot give Harry lube for his birthday in front of his parents. They’ll never let me be alone with him again.”

Niall doesn’t look like he knows quite what to do with that. “Right, fair,” he says.

“Also, you told me to buy banana flavored stuff and Harry doesn’t like banana flavored stuff,” Louis continues reasonably, nodding his head at Liam. “Says it doesn’t taste like real bananas.”

“That’s also true,” says Liam. “It doesn’t taste like bananas?”

Louis reaches into his pocket where he’s taken to carrying the little tubes.

Liam and Niall shoot him equally unimpressed looks. Louis shrugs.

“What?”

Both of their eyebrows raise.

Louis does not have time for them. “When you start having regular and fantastic sex, then you’re allowed to knock my life choices,” he says.

Liam blinks. “Louis, you forgot to buy Harry a birthday present,” he says. “What kind of friend would I be if I _didn’t_ knock your life choices?”

Louis wonders if he could throw Liam out of the car. “I don’t care for your negative attitude, Liam,” he says. “I still have time to buy Harry a present.”

Liam looks at him. “Right, okay,” he says. “And when were you planning on doing this?”

Louis meets his gaze head on. “Eventually,” he says. “I have plenty of time.”

\--

It turns out Louis doesn’t have plenty of time, because Harry will not leave him alone. Normally Louis would be fine with this--time without Harry is time without laughter and daft jokes and orgasms--but normally Louis didn’t forget to buy Harry a present. It gets so bad that Louis ends up shopping for Harry’s birthday present with Harry. On Harry’s birthday. He has no idea how this happened.

“This is an awful idea,” Tiamat hisses in his ear as they wait for Harry to finish inspecting bananas in the fruit aisle. For some reason they’ve decided to start at Tescos. Louis would ask, but at this point he’d settle for anywhere where he can buy Harry something.

“We were rather limited on options,” Louis replies through his teeth . “Now go distract Harry so I can buy him something?”

Harry makes a humming noise and puts down the bananas. Liana is perched on his shoulder, surveying the entire store, and when she catches Louis’ eye she grins at him.

Louis nods back weakly. “Tiamat,” he repeats. “Distractions, please.”

“I don’t think you’ll find a birthday present in Tescos, Louis,” she says. “Why don’t we just make him a card?”

Louis turns to look at her with  horror. “No,” he says. “Tiamat--”

Before he can continue to express his pain--a _card_ , why hadn’t anyone suggested that _before_ Louis spent the last forty-eight hours in a panic?--Harry returns without the bananas.

“What are we talking about?” he says.

Louis reaches out and grabs the nearest thing he can. “Happy Birthday,” he says, thrusting the item at Harry. It turns out to be  a vegetable of some sort, with a leafy top and reddish coloring. Louis has no idea what it is. Hopefully Harry doesn’t as well.

“Thank you?” Harry says. “Um, I don’t actually like radishes, though?”

Louis blinks down at the vegetable with new eyes. “That’s a radish?” he says. “Huh.” He takes the thing back from Harry and hefts it in his hand a few times. “I should have told everyone on X-Factor to eat these instead.”

Harry grins at him. “I dunno, Lou,” he says. “‘Radish’ doesn’t have the same ring to it that ‘carrot’ does.”

“It has the same amount of syllables, though,” says Liana, from Harry’s shoulder.

“True,” Harry agrees, while Louis tries very hard to pretend he didn’t almost respond to her.

“Careful,” Tiamat mutters. “Not that I think we’ve been recognized, but you know.”

Louis purses his lips at her and frowns a bit. “I know,” he grumbles.

“I don’t think there’s anything I actually need from Tescos, though,” Harry is saying, as if nothing happened. “Did you have somewhere else you wanted to go?”

Louis mulls that over. “Um, well.”

“Somewhere where you can buy birthday presents, perhaps?” Harry continues, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Not that I know anyone who’s turning any older.”

Louis flushes high across his cheeks. “Oh, shut up,” he says. “I’ll have you know I’ve already bought your present.” He crosses his arms and puts the radish down. “And it’s amazing.”

Harry nods at him. “Okay,” he says easily. “So back to the hotel, then?”

Louis bites his lip. He knows they have to go back, because they’ve got a gig tonight, but part of the reason he’d wanted to go out with Harry, present shopping aside, was the fact that they’ll be starting tour rehearsals soon. Louis has no doubt that they’ll be fine, has no nightmare about the tour itself being anything but _fine_ , but that hasn’t stopped his stomach from twisting itself in knots at the thought of it. He hasn’t been able to put his finger on why, but the tour makes him anxious. “I guess.”

Harry looks at him for a bit. “Or we could keep shopping,” he says, taking hold of Louis’ hand and dragging him towards the entrance to Tescos. “You can subtly buy me a present while I pretend not to notice.”

Louis gapes at him. “I told you I’ve already gotten you a present,” he protests, but Harry pays him no mind.

“Oh, look, that shop looks promising.” Harry hauls Louis in through the doors. “I’m going to go busy myself with these books while you look around.”

“Harry.” Louis feels his lips twitching. “You’re not being subtle.”

Harry picks up the nearest book and puts it in front of his face. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, mouth not visible behind the hardcover. “I’m honestly very interested in learning more about-- _mountaineering_ ,” he says, eyes darting across the book. “Do you think this would be useful for, like, skiing, or something?”

Louis licks his lips. “You like skiing?” he says. “Are you any good?”

Harry lowers the book so that he can smirk at him. “That depends,” he says. “Are you seriously asking, or do you want to know if you should buy me this book for my birthday?”

Liana crawls over his shoulder so that she can better stare Louis down, nodding like she’s on some sort of important game show.

Louis wants nothing more than to laugh at the picture the two of them make, but he holds it together. “I’m seriously asking, Harold,” he says. “Your present is already wrapped and waiting for you. But skiing?” It’s possible he’s more eager than he has any right to be, but Harry’s the one who started the conversation.

“Um, actually no?” Harry says, looking apologetic. “I have absolutely no experience.”

“That’s okay,” Louis says quickly, mind whirring frantically. “I could teach you?”

“You could what?” hisses Tiamat, because it’s not like Louis’ gone skiing before either, but it’s two sticks and some snow and how hard could it be?

“It could be fun?” he tries.

“It absolutely could _not_ ,” Tiamat continues to say out of the corner of her mouth, but when Harry looks at Louis with both dimples on display, her jaw snaps shut.

Harry is practically glowing. “That’d be awesome, Lou,” he breathes. “I would love to go skiing with you at some point.”

Louis stares back at him, more than a little dazed. “Great,” he says, before Tiamat steps on his foot. “I mean-- _lovely_ ,” he amends, narrowing his eyes at her. “It’s a plan.”

Harry looks like he’s holding back a laugh, made only worse by the fact that he raises the book on mountains up to his nose again. “Okay.” He’s definitely laughing.

Louis points at him dramatically. “But don’t think this is your present, either, Styles,” he says. “In fact.”

He whips out his phone, keys in his passcode, pulls up the Twitter app, and glares at Harry.

Harry stares back with the book in front of his mouth and Liana perched on top of his head.

Louis opens up a new tweet and starts typing furiously. “Back me up, Ti,” he says, as he goes. “H and Li have the whole hat-of-intimidation thing down but you are a giant hunting cat and I am Louis, the Tommo Tomlinson.” He finishes typing, adds Harry’s Twitter handle, and then taps send. “We do not need hats to be intimidating.”

“Hat-of-intimidation?” says Harry.

“I am sort of intimidating, aren’t I?” says Liana. She bare her teeth in some sort of snarl.

Tiamat looks back at her, unimpressed. Then she turns to Louis. “Do you want me to roar, or something?” she says. “Because I think that would just draw more attention to us.”

Louis blinks and looks away from where his [tweet](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/32470285319929856) is gathering favorites and retweets.  In the corner of the store, he can see a group of teenage girls, clutching at their daemons and their phones and very obviously staring at him and Harry.

He swallows. “Oh.”

Harry follows his line of sight curiously, and ends up flashing both of his dimples at the girls. They titter, charmed, and seem to press even closer together. “Hello,” Harry calls.

“Oh my God,” says one of the girls. “You’re Harry Styles.”

“And Louis Tomlinson,” one of the other ones adds. Her daemon is some sort of bird, bright blue with flashy wings, and he’s been darting around the store above her head for most of the conversation.

Louis manages something of a smile and waves at them. He’s still not quite used to being recognized everywhere, but it’s flattering and lovely and nice. He knows very well that One Direction owes everything to their fans, and while he can’t trace the beginning of his relationship with Harry back to them, they play a large role in keeping them together.

“We’d be together regardless,” Tiamat mutters, pressing in closer to Louis. It’s funny, how little he notices about how differently his daemon acts when it’s just the boys and them. Tiamat has never been clingy, but the ways she’s hovering near him and Harry is more protective than anything else.

“True,” he replies, trying to keep his lips from moving as much as possible.

The girls are whispering, eyes going between Tiamat and Louis in a way that make his hackles rise, and Harry is still smiling. “I am,” he says, answering the girl’s declaration. “And you are?”

Louis just bites his tongue and tries not to be unnerved by the fact that they’re actually proper famous, now. He love their fans. They’re lovely.

“Get it together,” he mutters.

Tiamat nudges him subtly and he smiles.

“Your biggest fan,” says the girl’s friend. “Can we have an autograph?”

“Lou?” Harry turns to look at Louis, who manages to shake himself out of it and nods.

They head over to the girls, pose for pictures, carefully set Liana down on top of Tiamat and shift the girls away from them, and Louis ignores the way they coo when Harry lets go of Liana.

“What’s your name?” he asks one of the girls, taking the pen she hands him and blinking down at the photos. It’s a candid shot, something from the behind the scenes on the X-Factor, and Louis feels like he should be blushing.

The girl answers breathlessly, obviously overcome, but Louis just smiles at her and starts writing her name on autopilot. The look on his face in the photo is embarrassing. The fact that he’s with Harry, that Tiamat hadn’t even settled yet and is obviously making fun of Liana on the sidelines, is just icing on the cake.

“Oh, that’s a cute photo,” says Harry, when he sees it. “Do you want me to sign it as well?”

The girl looks star struck, but she nods. “I voted for you guys,” she says, as Harry adds his own signature next to Louis’. “Back on X-Factor. You were really good, Harry.”

That brings a genuine smile to Louis’ lips. “Wasn’t he?” He reaches out and ruffles Harry’s curls, vaguely aware of Liana chewing nervously on Tiamat’s ears. “You wouldn’t believe how modest this one is,” he adds. “I swear you’d think we were trying to tell him he was the next Justin Timberlake, or something.”

Harry goes to straighten his hair, hands brushing through it in his usual, quick way. “Actually, you did tell me I could be the next Justin Timberlake,” he points out. “Remember?”

The girls look absolutely ecstatic about the turn of the conversation. “Really?”

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry. “If I remember correctly that was Niall,” he says. “And that idea was very carefully scrapped when you refused to go blond for the ‘cause, Hazza.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’d make an awful blond,” he says, turning to the girls. “Don’t you think?” He and Louis have made their way through all of the autographs by now, but Louis is seriously considering making their day by asking if they’d like a Twitter follow.

Before he can do so, Tiamat catches his eyes, managing to convey that they’re due back at the hotel for sound-check at The Regal with a single blink.

“I think you’d look lovely with any hair color, Harry,” one of the girls is in the middle of saying when Louis goes to curl an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Harry says. “What do you think, Louis?”

Louis pretends to consider it, tapping a beat against Harry’s wrist where he’d have a watch, and nodding his head towards the door. “I think we’ll have to wait and see,” he says. “Who knows what the tour will bring!”

The girls look even more excited. “I can’t wait for the tour,” one of them says. “It’s going to be great.”

Louis wishes he felt the same, but he manages a smile. “That’s what we hope,” he says. “But now we actually have to go--”

“Oh, yes, of course,” one of them says, the one with the blue bird daemon. “It was nice meeting you.”

Louis goes to wave at her, and then rather impulsively hugs her, leaving her friends hissing in her ears as he and Harry make their way out of the store and back towards the car. “That was fun,” Louis says, not even joking at this point. “We better not ruin the tour, now, though.”

Harry nudges him in the shoulder. “We’re not going to ruin the tour, Louis,” he says. “We’re going to smash it.”

Louis shrugs in response. “If you say so,” he says a bit dubiously. “But first things first, we’ve got a show to put on, and you’ve got a birthday dinner to attend.”

Harry snorts at him. “You’re coming too, you tosser,” he says. “And with my present.”

Louis feels his throat go dry. “Right,” he says. “Your present. Of course.”

\--

“Oh, Louis,” says Harry’s mum, when Louis hands Harry the [card](http://bulletprooflarry.tumblr.com/post/53296246525/harrys-17th-birthday-party) he slaved over in the toilet for at least ten minutes while Zayn stood guard and laughed at him. “Did you write this yourself?”

“I had to make use of all those baby photos you showed me,” Louis manages, fingers itching to snatch the thing back before Harry can do something stupid like show it to Anne. “What a better way than immortalizing them on something H definitely can’t get rid of.”

“Like Harry would want to get rid of it,” mutters Zayn, through his teeth. “You bloody composed an ode to his dimples, Lou--”

“Anyway.” Louis shifts in the booth until he’s blocking the view of Tiamat, who very carefully steps on Fikriyya’s tail. “Happy Birthday.”

“I think it’s sweet,” says Harry’s mum, watching Harry read the card.

He goes pink at all the proper moments--like when Louis started waxing poetic about Harry’s fingers and the wonderful things they could do--and giggles at every little one of Louis’ dumb jokes. “I don’t think that’s how you spell ‘spontaneous,’ Lou,” he says. He make sure to keep the card tilted away from his mum, whose fox daemon is definitely grinning at them.

“Is it not?” he says, leaning down to look at his handiwork. “Shame.” He’d started by talking about the moment he met Harry, paying extra attention to the fact that Liana had settled, which led to him drawing a very poor comic reenactment of that very moment, which in turn led him to writing three more paragraphs about his piss-poor art skills. At which point Louis had given up on being brief, and had basically vomited his feeling onto the card. And apparently also misspelled quite a few words. His teachers would be so disappointed. His teachers can also suck it, seeing as he currently has a recording contract with Simon Cowell and is in the process of making a debut album.

“I love it,” Harry replies. “It’s perfect.”

Anne makes another cooing noise, and even Zayn is smiling genuinely at them. “Can I see it, Harry?”

The smiles very slowly slides off of Harry, Louis, and Zayn’s face, and Niall very quickly thrusts a pair of goofy glasses at Harry. “Here,” he says, near shouting. “Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Harry takes the glasses and hands Liana the card.

Anne’s daemon Phanuel stares back at her without blinking, and Louis has to remind himself that Liana grew up in a house with him. His less than PG13 words about Harry’s person are in safe jaws, as it were.

“Thank you, Niall,” Harry says, meaning both for the glasses and for the distraction. “I will wear them always.”

“Maybe for the first gig of the tour,” puts in Louis, trying to be helpful, and regretting the turn of events immediately. “Bugger.”

Harry makes a face at him, but Anne doesn’t shush him for language.

“That’s right, the tour,” she says. “Are you all excited, then?”

Louis shrugs and looks down at the table, suddenly fascinated. Harry grabs his hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.

“Of course, yeah,” says Liam, ever willing to pick up the slack. “We’ve been really excited to perform in front of some live audiences.”

“I suppose it is different than television,” says Harry’s mum. “Same amount of nerves, though, Harry?”

Harry winces. “Mum,” he mutters.

“Harry’s ace at live shows,” Louis puts in. “He hasn’t thrown up in ages.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says, but he smiles at him. “What lovely dinner conversation.”

“Well, it’s true,” Louis protests. “You’ve been fine for the live shows.”

Harry shrugs. “That’s because you can see the entire audience, yeah?” he says. “It’s not like it’s the entire world watching or anything.”

“It’s not like the entire world was watching when we were on X-Factor, though,” Liam points out. “Mostly it was just Britain, yeah?”

“And America,” prompts Niall. “Lots of people in America like One Direction.”

They all blink at him.

“What?” Niall looks confused. “I google.”

“What, ‘One Direction’?” Zayn sounds like he isn’t sure if he wants to actually know the answer to that question.

“No, ‘Zayn Malik’,” says Niall. “Of course ‘One Direction’. I want to see what people are saying about us!”

The rest of the band tilts their heads to the sides in concession. “Okay, fair,” says Zayn. “Are they saying good things, then?”

“Well actually, I was looking at this one thing and lot of people were talking about you and Tiamat, Harry--”

“Okay!” Louis interrupts, loudly, before Harry’s parents can catch on to Niall’s little mishap.

Tiamat makes a rumbling noise at Louis’ feet and Eirian snaps to attention guiltily.

“I think we’re all hungry, now yeah?”

“Definitely,” says Harry. “Let’s order.”

\--

“So, did you actually love the card?” Louis says, as Harry shoves him down on the bed and then shoves his trousers down as well. “You weren’t just saying that so you mum wouldn’t read it and know all about how much I love your fingers?”

Harry sticks said fingers in Louis’ mouth mid conversation and goes for the lube with his other hand.

“No, but I’m honestly asking,” Louis says around Harry’s pinky. “It wasn’t too much?”

Harry gives up on his search for the lube. “It was lovely,” he tells him. “Now where’s the lube?”

Louis shrugs. “I think Niall nicked it,” he admits. “We had a discussion in the car earlier. About his googling habits. He probably thought he was being funny.”

Over in the corner, Liana and Tiamat are doing whatever it is they usually do; Louis would ask either of them what it is, but generally speaking he’s not exactly capable of any sort of speaking post orgasm, let alone willing to leave Harry’s side. Because Harry’s warm, is all. Louis is not ridiculously sentimental, or anything like that.

Harry is pouting at him. “You let Niall nick our lube?” he says.

Louis shakes his head a bit to clear it. “Not purposefully, babe,” he says. He bounces a bit back on the bed a few times to gauge his position, before scooting down towards the headboard in the sexiest way possible. “I wouldn’t give it to him.”

Harry watches him go with bated breath, eyes going dark and mouth dropping open. “But, Louis,” he whines. “It’s my birthday.”

Louis swallows. “Okay, true,” he admits. “But there are other things to be done without lube.”

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Not on my birthday,” he says, petulantly.

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “God, Hazza, you’d think it wasn’t an annual thing.”

“You want to me to wait a whole year to get my fingers in you?” says Harry, like they’re talking about the weather or the next show or something.

Louis is not proud of the noise he makes, high pitched and wailing in the back of his throat. “You’re not the only one in this room who has a birthday,” he manages to say.

Harry narrow his eyes. “Yeah, but not for months, Lou.” He brings his hand up to his mouth and darts his tongue out to wet his fingertips. “I don’t want to wait months to fuck you.”

Louis drops a hand down to palm his cock through his boxers with a groan. “You cannot say things like that, Harold,” he explains, pressing down with the heel of his hands. “It does _things_ to me.”

Harry’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Technically that’s the point, Tomlinson,” he says. And then, oddly, “I like your last name.”

Louis doesn’t follow that chain of thought to his usual, “well if you like it so badly why don’t you keep it,” because Harry has pulled his fingers out of his mouth and grabbed Louis by the wrists.

“Stay,” he says, bringing both of Louis’ hands above his head and pressing them against the pillow there. “Please.”

Louis watches him half-lidded with his lips parted. “So polite, Styles,” he says. He likes Harry’s last name a lot as well. Enough to keep it, if the time ever came. “Going to make your mum proud?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he considers banging his head back against the headboard a few times. Rule number one of having sex with anyone: do not mention their parents. More importantly, do not mention their parents before they’re about to get their hand on your cock. Louis is an idiot.

Harry, by contrast, doesn’t seem all that bothered by Louis’ terrible dirty talk. Instead the younger boy rolls with it, smirking at him, before dragging Louis’ boxers down in one clean move. “I should hope she’s not proud of me for this,” he tells Louis seriously, before taking hold of Louis’ cock and stroking.

Louis goes whining back against the sheets with his eyes tightly closed. “It should be your birthday every day,” he tells the ceiling. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire and it’s taking all of his self control to keep his arms where Harry put them. Where _Harry_ put them. Harry, whose hands feel amazing, and who is-- “What are you doing?” If Louis sounds a bit frantic, it’s because when he opens his eyes, he finds Harry staring down at his cock like it holds the answers to the universe. Granted, Louis’ dick might have something to say about being seventeen, be it that at one point both Louis and his dick were in fact seventeen, but Louis doesn’t have time for whatever existential crisis Harry may or may not be having. The important thing is that Harry’s _isn’t moving_ , and Louis is not okay with this. Also, his brain cells might be dying.

“I’m trying to decide if I should eat you out or suck you off,” Harry answers. He still sounds perfectly composed. He’s also fully dressed, which Louis is not okay with.

“Either way get naked,” Louis insists. “And quickly.”

As Harry hurries to oblige, shameless as ever, he thinks over that question.

“Okay, maybe not the first one,” Louis tries, finally looking away from Harry and focusing on the ceiling again. For the first time all evening, he feels a bit exposed, elbows bent up against his ears and chest heaving in the lamplight. “I mean, not that I’m not--just maybe not so soon, is all--”

Harry reaches out and taps Louis on the chest, before urging him to bring his arms back down to his sides. “Lou.” He sounds very calm. “I would love to suck you off.”

Which is how Louis spends Harry’s seventeenth birthday biting back his groans as Harry makes it his business to try all the things he’s learned in porn.

“How much porn do you watch again?” Louis asks after what feels like hours, but has probably only been minutes. (Louis is very proud of those minutes, because Harry’s mouth is heavenly.)

“Enough.” Harry pulls off of his cock to answer, and spends the next few seconds blowing hot air on the rapidly cooling skin. Even that feels amazing, and Louis shifts awkwardly on the bed. He’s not sure if he wants Harry to keep going at his tantalizingly slow pace, or if he wants to roll Harry over and rut against him until he sees stars. “Why, do you like it?”

He takes Louis back in his mouth before Louis can answer with dignity, so he ends up sputtering out, “Well, I really like your mouth--!” brokenly. Definitely the rutting until he sees stars.

Harry pulls off again. “I’m glad,” he says. “I only want the best for you, Lou.”

Louis is all of a sudden blessed with the image of young Harry spending their three weeks apart watching porn as some sort of quirky preparation for seeing him again, and his throat is dry. He gets his elbows beneath him and pushes up, grabbing Harry by the biceps and hauling him forward, before rolling the younger boy down onto the bed and climbing into his lap. The move grinds their cocks together once, and Louis has to bite his lip to stop from moaning.

“Lou.” Harry sounds very unhappy about this chain of events.

“As much as I love what you were doing,” Louis tells him, taking his fallen trousers when Tiamat brings them to him, eyes rolling and Liana clutching to her back. “It is your birthday.”

Harry’s eyes light up when he sees the lube.

“And you like talking too much for me to properly get off.”

Harry’s eyes glint up at him as he watches Louis uncap the lube and dot a bit out onto his fingers. “It’s not my fault you’re so funny, Louis,” he says.

Louis finishes with the lube and tosses it onto the bed, before reaching behind himself. “You bet I’m funny,” he says, circling a finger with a hiss. “In fact, I’m hilarious.”

He’s vaguely aware of Harry drizzling lube onto his own fingers, but it’s only when he rather eagerly brushes Louis’ hand side and mutters, “It’s my birthday, lemme do it,” that Louis realizes just what that entails.

“Happy Birthday,” he says eventually.

Harry just smirks at him, and proceeds to take him apart.

\--

The morning after their One Direction-centric gig in Leeds, they have their first rehearsal for the X-Factor Live Tour, and Louis wakes up not quite knowing what to expect. Well, he knows what to expect. He knows they’ll run through the set list and they’ll make sure everyone’s inears work and Tiamat will whine about her own fancy set of earplugs, but more importantly, the X-Factor Live Tour will stop being that thing that Louis has been looking forward to since he auditioned, and start being that thing that is happening in two weeks.

Louis isn’t sure if he’s ready for that, to be honest.

Harry doesn’t seem to have any such qualms about it. He wakes up practically singing, humming along to _Forever Young_ in the shower, and then over breakfast, and then all the way to the studio.

Louis would be charmed, if it weren’t for the sudden case of nerves fluttering around in his stomach. He manages to get through most of the technical stuff--who goes where, who sings what, how to look at the audience, and even sits through one of the more horrific telling offs he’s ever had when Liam accidentally mentions Harry’s birthday celebrations.

“Thanks, Li,” he tells him, after they’ve been sent back to the others. “It’s not like I was going to actually touch Liana on stage or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Liam replies. He sounds incredibly apologetic. He also hadn’t had to stick around while Louis was being told why under no circumstances he is to try to touch Harry’s daemon on stage. God forbid talk to her. “I didn’t think they’d make that big of a deal out of it?” Liam makes it sound like  a question.

“About what?” says Liana, when they reach the others.

Louis manages not to glance back where they’ve come from, but Liam isn’t as quick on his feet, and Harry catches the guilty look in his eyes.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” Louis says, meeting Liana’s eyes head on, jaw tightening a little in response. “Not on stage, at least.”

“Oh.” Harry is the one who looks guilty at that. “Sorry.”

Louis reaches for his hand, tugging him closer to him until the younger boy is forced to look him in the eye. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, H,” he says, staring until Harry smiles at him, hesitantly, and squeezes his hand back. “You neither, Payno,” Louis adds, looking over at Liam. “If you’ll remember, I had much worse when we were on the X-Factor.”

Liam visibly shudders. “D’you remember when you ran off to visit your mum at the start of week five?” he says. “God, I thought Simon was going to murder you.”

“I think I nearly shit my pants,” Louis agrees. “And I mean, luckily Ti’d settled so he had that to look forward to. It was easily sold.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I actually think you were worse, Li,” he says. “And Harry was walking around all smug about it...I think Niall was the only one of us not worried.”

“Well, that’s because I knew where Tommo’d buggered off to,” Niall says reasonably. “Because we’re just that close.” He comes over and practically drapes himself about Louis’ shoulders, never mind that Harry’s still holding his hand and invading his space. “Everyone should be very jealous.”

Everyone pointedly looks over at Harry, who shrugs. “Lou wanted to talk to Hannah,” he says quietly. “And he’d also just kissed the living daylights out of me, so...”

“Oh God, Hannah.” Liam looks even more guilty. “Aren’t you two still--”

“Is no one going to take issue with the fact that Niall just said he and I are closest?” Louis says, loudly. He shoots Tiamat a look, and his daemon pads over to Bethania to fill her in on Hannah’s infinite kindness.

“It’s definitely a lie,” says Harry. “Didn’t Niall just catch you sneaking out, or something?”

Louis can’t help the warm bubble of affection he feels for Harry at that moment. Niall, by contrast, is angrily sputtering from where he’s still wrapped around Louis. He’s even got one of his legs up and around Louis’ thighs.

“Harry Styles,” Niall says. “How dare you suggest that my friendship with Louis is anything other than the beautiful thing it is?”

“What relationship?” says Tiamat. “In fact, do we know you?”

Niall whacks Louis atop the head.

“Ow, hey,” Louis protests, letting go of Harry’s hand so that he can shove Niall off. “Why’re you hitting me?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what would happen if I hit Tiamat,” Niall explains patiently. “But I _am_ reasonably sure it’d end with you popping wood in the middle of the studio.”

Louis debates high fiving him.

“Popping wood,” Liana interjects. “What is it with you people and silly words for the male genitalia?”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a dick,” Louis says loudly, and everyone remotely in their vicinity chokes on the air and has to pretend they weren’t listening in.

Harry looks to be in pain for how hard he’s laughing, Zayn’s wandered off to review the sheet music, Niall looks like St Patrick’s day has come early, and Liam looks like he’s seriously considering starting a solo career.

“I am _not_.” Liana sounds genuinely offended. “I’ve seen how much trouble those things are--you’d think your hand would get tired, or something, Harry, honestly.”

Harry manages to stop laughing long enough to blush and grab his daemon around the waist, pulling her into his chest and pointedly not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Across the room, Louis is pretty sure Zayn is laughing at them.

“Liana,” Harry hisses. “Time and a place.”

Louis crosses his arms. “Oh, don’t stop on my accord, Harold,” he says mimicking Harry’s daemon’s tone. “I’ve got a vested interest in the state of your manhood--carry on.”

“You’ve got a vested interest--someone come kill me,” says Tiamat, joining the conversation. “What is wrong with you?”

“Yeah, Lou, what’s wrong with you?” adds Liana.

Louis looks between the two of them incredulously. “What’s wrong with me?” he says, reaching over to pull Harry into his arms and hide him from the world. “I’m not the one forcing Haz to relive his most embarrassing moments.”

“Actually, you were,” says Niall helpfully, from the sideline. He’s somehow gotten his hands on a bag of crisps and is eating them gleefully. “But pretend I’m not here--this is better than daytime TV.”

“When do you watch daytime TV?” says Liam, sounding a bit desperate for a conversation change.

“On planes,” says Niall. He takes a huge mouthful of crisps and puts them away in a matter of seconds. “And also when I’m bored.”

Liam blinks. “Are you bored often?”

“Enough about television,” Louis interrupts. “I think we’ve lost sight of this conversation’s point.”

“Did this conversation even have a point?” says Zayn, returning to join them carrying microphones. “They want to run over the choreography of _Forever Young_ , again.”

Louis bites his tongue on whatever he’d planned on saying, the nerves from earlier back. “Right,” he says. “Shall we, lads?”

Harry hangs back a bit, waiting for the others to file off towards the stage, and grabs Louis by the hand when he goes to follow Liam.

“Are you okay?” he says.

Louis squeezes his hand back and musters a smile. “Fine, Harold,” he says. “Couldn’t be better.”

\--

It’s two in the morning and Louis can’t sleep. He’s not sure why--maybe it’s because all they’ve been doing is rehearsals and book signings and smiling for the world--but he’s wide awake at two in the morning and trying not to wake Harry with the glare of his phone.

Not that Harry’d wake up anyway. As soon as they’d gotten back to the hotel, Harry’d been on Louis, muttering something about singing and microphones and Louis’ hands. After that, they’d ended up hanging out with the other boys, practicing songs and doing a crossword. Louis had won, even though technically you can’t win at crosswords, and then spent the next few minutes running around the room while Zayn chased him shouting about how “now you’re just making things up, Lewis”. Needless to say Harry should be exhausted, but Louis decides to get up and hide in the hotel loo just in case.

“You’re being an idiot,” Tiamat tells him, after Louis’ been scrolling through Twitter for more than three minutes. “Wait, go back?”

Louis pauses his thumb and very slowly scrolls back up, pausing to let Tiamat read. “Wow,” he says, letting his eyes flit over the fan’s words. He goes a bit crosseyed sometime after the third use of the letter ‘u’ in place of the word, and all in all he’d rather not think anything that involves someone’s tits, his cock, and scented hand lotion.

“Huh,” Tiamat says after a moment. “Please hold while I got wash my eyes out with this conveniently located soap.”

Louis giggles at her, all the while debating favoriting it. “Baby,” he tells her, deciding better of it. (Someone in PR would have a shit-fit for sure, and Louis’ had enough talks in secluded parts of the studio to last a lifetime.)

Tiamat sticks her tongue at him. “Loser,” she retorts. “Can we go to bed, now?”

Louis narrows his eyes at her. “Are you tired?” he asks.

His daemon appears to think that over. “No,” she decides eventually. “I’m bloody nervous, too.” She pouts. “What’s wrong with you--you’d think we’d never sung in front of real people before.”

Louis growls at her. “It’s not the live singing thing that’s the problem,” he snaps. “Now hush up before Harry wakes up because of you--”

“I am not the one yelling,” Tiamat hisses. “And why are you angry at me? It’s not my fault--”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Louis snaps, but he stops speaking when Harry stirs back in the bedroom. He swallows. “Sorry.”

Tiamat comes close to him and nudges him with her nose. “Me too,” she agrees, sighing. “We’re a mess.”

Louis feels his lips quirk. “Yeah,” he says, flipping through to Harry’s profile and thumbing over the group for the band. “Yeah, hey.”

Tiamat makes a questioning noise.

“Leona Lewis followed Liam,” he says. “Wow.”

Tiamat blinks down at his phone. “Huh,” she says. “We should tell him.”

Louis looks down at the phone some more, eyes darting over Liam’s tweet count, follower count, and following count, before stopping on Leona’s Twitter handle. “We should, shouldn’t we?” he says. “But how?”

Tiamat is silent for a bit. When Louis looks up, he finds her staring pointedly at the little bottles of hotel shampoo, neatly lined up on the bathtub shelf. Harry probably did it; Louis thinks it’s cute.

“No,” he says, returning to the point at hand. “We shouldn’t.”

“Let’s ask Li,” says Tiamat, grabbing a few bottles in her mouth and pulling Louis out into the bedroom. “Come on.”

“Tiamat,” Louis whispers as they creep back towards the bed. “This is a bad idea.”

“No,” Tiamat says around the shampoo. “This is a brilliant idea.”

Harry’s sprawled completely out into the empty space Louis’d left in the bed, naked as the day he was born save a ring of bruises around his left thigh. Louis would feel bad, but he feels the answering twinge of the lovebites along his hipbones. Liana is the only thing covering Harry’s modesty, curled tightly in a ball across his lower stomach and snoring. It’s adorable.

Louis takes a moment to stare at her. “She’s really cute, isn’t she-- _Ti_ \--” he starts to say, breaking off when Tiamat dumps the shampoo in his lap, shakes, and leans forward to licks a long stripe along Liana’s back.

Harry’s daemon comes awake with a startled yelp, Harry himself twitching on the bed and groaning. “Louis!” Liana shrieks, as if Louis had been the one to lick her.

Louis is offended. “What are you shouting at me for?” he says. “I’m completely innocent in this!”

Liana glares rather pointedly at the shampoo in his lap, and Louis lets it drop the carpet quickly.

“Innocent,” he repeats. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Leona Lewis is following Liam on twitter,” says Tiamat, ignoring the way Liana is glaring at her.

Harry yawns, eyes blinking open. “Lou?” he says. “What’re you on about?”

“So?” says Liana, obviously the more awake of the two. “Why do we care about Liam’s followers?”

“Should we go wake him?” Tiamat presses.

Louis gives up on stopping her and instead drops his head in his hands. “I give up,” he mumbles. “I give up, you win. Let’s go dump shampoo on Liam.”

Tiamat looks like a cat that got the cream. “Fabulous,” she says. “Thanks for the talk, Harry.”

Harry just waves a hand in the air and rolls over. “I’m going back to sleep, now,” he murmurs. “Don’t kill Liam.”

“Hey, wait, no--shampoo?” says Liana. “Tiamat-- _Louis_?”

“Bye, now!” Tiamat calls, picking up the shampoo bottles and striding towards the hotel door. “Come on, Louis.”

Louis is helpless to do anything other than follow her out into the hall, two rooms over, and into Liam’s room. “He’s going to regret giving us that,” Louis says, pocketing the key with a sigh and pulling the door shut. “He even got the single this time, like--”

“Shh,” says Tiamat. “Hurry.”

Louis rolls his eyes a bit and uncaps one of the bottles of shampoo, padding over to where Liam is sleeping. He’s on his bed, arms bent up around the pillow and brow quiet in sleep. Louis can’t quite make out Bethania in the dark, but he’d wager she’s the lump next to Liam, on his right.

“Hold Beth down, yeah?” he tells Tiamat, before dumping the shampoo on Liam’s face.

Nothing happens.

Liam just twitches, confused, and keeps sleeping.

Tiamat shifts around at his feet, anxiously. “And?” she says. “Maybe more?”

Louis squirts some more shampoo out on Liam’s face. “Nothing,” he says, sighing. “Hang on.” He leans forward, tongue darting out of his mouth in concentration, and manages to get the glob of shampoo to resemble a dick. “I think you’re going to have to yell, or something--”

“Liam, wake up!” shouts Tiamat, leaping on the bed.

Liam comes awake with a startled cry, eyes darting around the room and shampoo flying. “I’m up, I’m up,” he says, breathlessly. “Is there a fire--has the tour started--Louis?”

Bethania shoots out of the bed and runs for Liam’s suitcase, grabbing him clothes and showing the whites of her eyes.

Louis just sits down on Liam’s bed and laughs.

For a moment, Liam doesn’t say anything. Then he very quietly sits down next to Louis. “There is no fire, is there?” he says.

Louis shakes his head.

“The tour doesn’t start for two weeks, right?”

He nods again.

Liam closes his mouth and swallows. “Okay,” he says, and then pauses.

Tiamat circles about on the bed gleefully, before settling down. “That was awesome,” she says to herself. “Now I’m sleepy.”

Liam very slowly reaches a hand up to touch his cheek. “Louis?” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Why is there shampoo on my face?”

Louis grins. “Well, see, Leona Lewis is following you on Twitter.”

Liam stares down at the shampoo on his fingertips. “It’s a dick, isn’t it?” he asks Bethania, who pads back over to him and rests her head in his lap. “There’s a dick on my face.”

His daemon sighs. “Yep,” she informs him. Then she turns to face Louis. “You’re a menace.”

Louis fake bows at her, still grinning. “That I am,” he says. “I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

“Leona Lewis is following me?” Liam asks, voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Louis affirms, nodding his head.

“Okay.” Liam pauses. “But why shampoo?”

Louis shrugs. “Dunno,” he says, falling back on Liam’s bed and sighing. “It was convenient? I mean, it was mostly Tiamat’s idea--she’s the one who saw it when we were in the loo and she’s the one who told me to--”

“Wait, stop,” Liam interrupts. “Why were you in the loo at two in the morning anyway?”

Louis swallows and shrugs. “Dunno,” he says again. “I couldn’t sleep.”

The duvet rustles when Liam falls back on the bed next to him. Louis doesn’t turn his head, but he bets if he did, Liam would be staring right back him, looking concerned.

“Are you worried about the tour?” says Liam.

“No.” Louis fumbles around on the bed trying to find something to do with his hands. “Why would I be worried about the tour?”

Liam shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not worried about the tour.”

Louis turns his head to face him, suddenly furious. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about anything, _Liam_ , since you probably came out of your mum with the voice of an angel--”

He breaks off when he notices that instead of looking hurt, Liam is just smiling at him. It’s a bit unnerving.

“What?” Louis shifts on the bed. “Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Your voice is awesome, Tommo,” Liam tells him. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

Louis agrees. Louis doesn’t need anyone to tell him anything. Louis knows he’s got an amazing voice--he made covers in his bedroom and put them on Youtube. He auditioned for The X-Factor. Louis has no shortage of confidence. It still feels nice, though, to have Liam tell him things he already knows. It still makes the tension in his chest ease up for the first time that month. There’s a lump in his throat.

“You see?” Liam smiles at him. “We’re going to be brilliant on the tour.”

Louis stares back at him for a long moment, before smiling in return. “Yeah,” he agrees, sincere this time. “But can I just say, it’s really hard to take anything you say seriously when you’ve got a shampoo dick on your face.”

Liam’s face goes from amused-pride to horrified-put-uponness in three seconds. “Ugh,” he groans. “I hate you--why’d you draw a dick on my face, anyway?”

He gets up and pads into his own loo, flipping on the fluorescent lights and making Louis wince and curl into Tiamat, who licks him across the cheek a few times in response.

“Hi,” she says, as Liam and Bethania mutter to themselves in the other room. “You okay to sleep, now?”

Louis hugs her a bit more in response. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Hey, Li?”

Liam comes out of the loo sans dick on his face with a hand towel in one hand. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna go back to bed, now.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Oh, _now_ you’re going to sleep,” he says. “Having woken me up for no reason--”

“Leona Lewis is a pretty awesome reason,” interjects Bethania.

“And dumped a bottle of shampoo on me.” Liam shakes his head. “Also for no reason, might I add.”

Louis shrugs at him. “What can I say?” he says. “I’m an impulsive person, Liam. I do what I have to do.”

Liam shakes his head at him some more and throws the towel at him. “Get out of my room, Louis,” he says. “Wanker.”

“You love me!” Louis crows at him, grabbing him by the face and pressing a loud kiss to his cheek on his way towards the door. “But don’t worry, Liam. Your secret is safe with me!”

“Fuck off,” says Liam, and Louis closes the door on his face.

For a moment, he stands in the hallway, unable to wipe the sudden smile off his face.

Then his phone buzzes. _i’ll get u back 4 that, lou_ , Liam’s texted him. _also i meant what i said about the singing thing._

Louis swallows a laugh, and goes back to his own room to curl around Harry and get some much needed sleep. They’ve got rehearsals tomorrow and Louis can’t wait.

\--

He doesn’t panic about the tour until their second to last day in Belfast, but to be fair, he only panics because Harry gets ill and decides to power through it. It’s not a big deal. People get sick all the time and they don’t die. Harry is most definitely not dying. He’s just feeling a bit under the weather and Louis is justified in feeling bad for him. There’s literally no time for Louis to be panicking--between the shows, and the soundchecks and changing hotels every few days, he’s a little bit busy--but more importantly, Harry hasn’t said a thing. Not one word.

Which is why by the time they’ve gotten through the matinee of the show and are prepping for the evening run, Tiamat has given up on all pretenses. She starts walking before he has time to say goodbye to Liam and Zayn, and he has to follow for fear of losing her.

“Ti--” he tries to protest.

“I’m not waiting for you.”

Louis remembers being twelve years old and pressing the bond, like all children do, but this is different. This isn’t Tiamat playing around, goading him to see how far they could go (pretty far, as it turned out, which worried his mum even worse since he was already showing no signs of settling). This is Tiamat on a mission, and Louis is helpless to follow her.

She leads Louis through the maze of backstage, muttering under her breath, until they find Harry, nodding along next to Niall while Sean talks at them about inears or something. When they reach them, it’s only luck that has Louis catching on to what Tiamat means to do before she can do something incredibly stupid like speak.

“Hi,” he says, interrupting Sean. “Can I borrow Harry for a sec?”

For a split second Harry looks relieved, but he very quickly smoothes his expression over with a smile. “Hi, Lou,” he says, and God does he sound sick. “Can it wait a bit?”

Niall looks between the two of them a bit critically, before interjecting. “Nah, I’ll come find you after and update you, yeah?” he says, nudging Harry once in the shoulder. “You look dead on your feet.”

“I’ll be fine for tonigh’t show,” Harry protests, but he goes willingly enough when Louis drapes an arm around him and steers him down the hall.

“I’m sure you will,” Tiamat says, once they’re far enough away that Sean can’t hear. “But for now, you should probably lie down or something.”

Louis looks back once, and he thinks Sean’s daemon notices, but Sean’s daemon is a bat, and Louis’ not very good at telling what bats expression are. Either way, he’s got more important things to deal with. Like mothering Harry.

“Louis can pet you,” Tiamat finishes saying. Louis has no idea if she’s addressing Harry, or if she’s addressing Liana, who’s been draped around Harry’s neck since the show started and hasn’t really moved since.

“Yeah,” he says, regardless. “I can do that.”

Harry makes a noise of agreement.

“But to be clear, who am I petting?” Louis continues, guiding Harry into one of the back rooms and flicking off the lights. “I’m not opposed to petting either of you, but we’ve got a show either way and I think being able to stand would be a good idea--”

“Harry,” Liana says, voice sounding pained. “You should pet Harry.”

Louis opens his mouth to tease her about her word choice.

“And in a nonsexual fashion,” Harry’s daemon continues. “I will bite you.”

Louis reaches out and bops her on the nose. “No, you won’t,” he says, even as she snaps playfully at his finger anyway. “Now sit down.”

Harry goes without protests, cuddling into Louis’s lap and letting his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

“I was serious about the petting,” Tiamat tells him, settling down next them both and very gently pressing up against Harry from the other side. If anyone were to find them like this, Louis knows they’d have some explaining to do, but the tiny sigh Harry makes when Tiamat touches him makes it worth it. Louis’ pretty sure he could sell it as a sickness thing, anyway.

“Yeah, okay.” He puts his hand in Harry’s curls, forever fascinated by just how soft they are, and strokes.

“You’re going to get sick,” Harry says softly, not opening his eyes. “But that feels nice.”

Louis doesn’t stop. “Harold,” he says quietly but with false seriousness. “What sort of weak person do you take me for?”

Harry seems to consider peeling an eye open, but settles for yawning instead. “It’s not weak to get sick, Lou,” he points out.

Liana’d ended up squished between the two of them when Harry practically got in Louis’ lap, but she seems perfectly content to stay there.

“No it’s not,” Louis agrees, brushing Harry’s curls back from his forehead and pressing a hand there to feel the skin. “You’re not weak at all, Haz.”

“I don’t think we have a fever,” says Liana after a few seconds have passed. Louis can feel her breathing against his neck in time with the movement of Harry’s chest and something about that is comforting. He feels something unfurl in his own chest, some sort of tension that had started up behind his temples the moment Harry opened his eyes and said, “I don’t feel very well, Lou,” in a voice that demanded that Louis fix it.

Louis hadn’t been able to fix it, of course, but he’d sure as hell tried. Never mind that Harry wasn’t complaining and never mind that the show had to go on--Louis’d fixed it as best he could. And Harry had been lovely.

“Do you need us to carry some of your solos tonight?” he asks, dreading the answer.

For a moment he thinks Harry’s going to say no, that he’s fine, and get out of Louis’ lap to make a point, but instead the younger boy seems to deflate.

Louis doesn’t quite know what to do with that, so he settles for more petting.

“That’s a yes, then,” Tiamat tells him quietly, when it’s clear Harry isn’t going to say anything. “Let’s make Liam do it.”

Louis looks down at Harry in time to catch his eyes blinking open and can’t quite hide a grin. “Yeah,” he says. “Let’s make Liam do it--hey, Haz, do you think you can get Li sick, at some point?”

Harry blinks again. “Why?”

“So that you can have all of his solos, of course,” Louis explains seriously. “I’m still banking on marrying you and taking all of your money, Harold, but first I need to make you a star.”

Harry smiles tentatively at that. “But I thought you said I was going to be a star regardless,” he points out.

Louis squeezes him a bit in response. “That’s true,” he says. “But it can’t hurt to make you even _more_ of a star.”

Harry laughs, sounding a little bit more like himself. “If I’m not going to sing all my solos, you have to do at least one, Lou,” he says. “‘Cause there’s no way I’m going to be a star without you.”

Louis stares down at him breathlessly, before leaning the few inches to kiss him. “What did I do to deserve you?” he whispers into Harry’s mouth, swallowing any of his attempts at answering.

“Louis.” His name has never sounded lovelier on Harry’s lips.

“Harry,” he says right back.

“You’re going to get _sick_.”

Louis rolls his eyes at him, but lets Harry turn away when he goes in for another kiss. “I thought I told you I’m above things like illness, Haz,” he says. “I did tell him, didn’t I?”

Tiamat tilts her head curiously at him. “You did,” she says. “But I agree with Harry--we should sing one of his solos.”

“Definitely.” Liana weighs in with a long drawn out sigh. “But for now I think you should pet me. I think I’m going to throw up.”

Louis isn’t sure if daemons can throw up, but he’s not about to find out, so he drags Harry’s daemon into his lap without a pause.

When Liam, Zayn, and Niall find them a few moments later, they file in wordlessly and settle in  to cuddle Harry.

“Great show today, Haz,” says Liam. “I’m proud of you.”

“Crowd was sick,” agrees Niall. “I can’t wait to play my guitar.”

“We need a song for that,” puts in Zayn. “Unless you want to just play whatever.”

“Whatever’s a very nice song, I think,” Harry says, voice breaking painfully. And then pauses. “Oh, no.”

“It’s okay.” Louis reaches out and takes his hand. “Liam’ll sing your solos.”

Liam blinks. “Alright,” he concedes. “But only if you do as well.”

“Well, if you say so,” Louis says, a bit hesitant.

None of the boys pretend to hear when Harry tells him, “You’ll be fine, Lou,” but the not so subtly press in closer in solidarity.

“God,” Niall says finally. “You’d think Harry was dying.”

There’s a silence, before Harry lets out a truly dramatic croaking noise and falls limp against Louis’ legs. He kicks Tiamat in the process but Louis’ daemon takes it with a put upon sigh.

“Harold, honestly, die more gracefully, next time,” she mutters.

“Harry?” Louis is busy saying. He dumps Liana behind his back like that’ll make her stop existing. “Liana?”

“Ha bloody ha,” says Zayn, dry as a bone. “We can see her.”

“Hush, Zayn, have some decency,” says Liam, as Niall pretends to stumble upon Harry’s body and begins sobbing into his hair.

Louis giggles down at the two of them and tries to turn them into tears. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he laughed at Harry’s impromptu funeral? In fact--

“Alas,” he says, reaching out to grab for whatever’s lying around in the room. “My dear Harriet is dead.”

“Harriet?” says Liam. “Is Harry a girl, now?”

“Oh, Louis, really?” says Zayn.

“I can’t go on,” Louis continues, ignoring both of them. “What is the point of living in a world without him?”

“So not a girl, then,” says Liam, and it sounds like Zayn hits him or something. Louis isn’t sure, since Louis is busy committing suicide with a water bottle. He has no idea whose water bottle it is, but he uncaps it and takes a sip regardless.

“O true apothecary!” he says dramatically. “Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.” And then he kisses Harry for good measure, before falling on top of him in death.

“For God’s sake, Liam, he’s supposed to be Juliet,” Zayn is saying. “And evidently Louis is Romeo.”

Louis raises one of his hands in a thumbs up in what he hopes is Zayn’s direction.

“Oh, who am I, then?” says Niall, abandoning his fake tears eagerly.

Louis shifts a bit so that he’s not smothering Harry so much as resting his cheek against his. “Dunno,” he says. “Who do you think, Zayn?”

Before Zayn can answer, Harry speaks. “Why am I Juliet, though?” he says. “I mean, not that I’m objecting.”

“Well to be fair you are younger,” Louis tells him, turning a bit so that he can look him the eye. He does this while they’re still pressed cheek to cheek, which makes things a bit harder. “And prettier.”

Harry scrambles a bit until Louis gets the message and sits up, before taking hold of both of his cheeks. “Louis,” he says very seriously. “You are very pretty.”

And Louis feels like he shouldn’t be blushing as hard as he is, but he really can’t help it.

“Are you blushing, Tommo?” says Liam, sounding chuffed. “This is priceless.”

Harry turns to look at him very seriously. “There’s nothing wrong with boys being pretty, Liam,” he says seriously, not blinking.

Liam looks a bit taken aback. “Well, yeah, obviously,” he says slowly. “I just meant--”

“Dammit, Hazza, you were right!” Louis shouts, before the conversation can get too heavy. He slides a hand back to press against Liana in acknowledgement, though, and Harry’s lips twitch. “I think you’ve infected me.”

“Whatever you do don’t fall on me,” Zayn tries to say, but Louis ignores him in favor of falling on him.

“Louis!” Zayn twists around trying to untangle himself, but Louis holds on for all he’s worth, before collapsing in his own bit of fake death. Zayn sighs, before falling limp as well.

“Oh no,” says Harry.  “I think Zayn’s gone as well.”

“Dropping like flies, we are,” says Niall finally. “So Liam, what do you think of starting a two man group?”

Louis blinks open an eye and looks over at Zayn. He finds him staring back at him, an equally mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh, look, zombies,” says Tiamat, tone dry, but she cuddles around Harry anyway while Louis and Zayn proceed to chase Niall and Liam around the room shouting about how they’re traitors.

Louis gives up the chase after a few laps once he’s gotten Niall, and comes to join Harry and Tiamat while Zayn corners Liam and Niall leaps on his back.

“So, how’re you feeling, then?” he says.

Harry snuggles into Tiamat’s side and yawns. “Much better, thanks,” he says. “But you’re still singing one of my solos.”

Louis snaps his fingers. “Rats,” he says. “And here I thought I’d healed you with true love’s kiss.”

Harry just laughs at him, dimples flashing. “Louis,” he says. “You’re going to be great.”

Louis smiles back, and thinks to himself that he probably won’t, but for Harry, he’ll try.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daemon list can be found on my tumblr [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau), and feel free to come say hi!
> 
> See you sometime next week! Wednesday posting is nice I might keep to that.


	3. March 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one went down to the wire. Although I did not have to rewrite all of it so there’s that! Betaed by Marta, Vic, and [Jess](http://thisismyoneluckyprize.tumblr.com/), who made everything sound good and British. All other mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> [Daemon list](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) has been updated to reflect this chapter as well. :)

**March 2011**

\--

Louis doesn’t actually get around to having a proper solo until March. Not that he suggests it--far from it, in fact. To be fair, most of his fears are not exactly unfounded, be it that as soon as they’d finished off the stretch of tour in Belfast, Louis’d gone back to the hotel room with his laptop and scoured the internet for fan commentary on his voice. The initial comments had been funny, back when the most interesting thing about him was Tiamat being unsettled, but by the time he hit present day he was jittery and unable to fall asleep. Of course then Harry’d crawled into his bed and blown him, which helped with the nerves, but not so much with the shaking.

So Louis absolutely does not intend to give himself a solo when he turns on the radio the morning before their show in Sheffield and Bruno Mars’ _Grenade_ happens to be playing. Tiamat is sprawled out on the bed, mostly on her back, drawing abstract shapes with her tail in the air. Louis knows she’s been spelling Liana’s name for the past few minutes, but because he’s a decent person, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he turns to her, sets down his laptop, and says, “I like this song.”

“Mmm,” says Tiamat. She stretches a little on the bed. “You embarrass me.”

Louis flops back on the bed next to her. “Shuddup,” he grumbles, words slurring together. It’s early enough that he can get away with sounding half-asleep, not to mention that he’s still in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. Mind you, it’s highly likely that the t-shirt in question is Harry’s, but that’s beside the point. It’s early, Louis is tired, and his daemon is teasing him.

“I’m just telling the truth,” says Tiamat, like she hadn’t been quietly humming along while Bruno Mars crooned about catching grenades for people not five seconds earlier.

Louis rolls his head to the side to stare at her. He’s well aware of the fact that he’s something of a sap. He grew up with four younger sisters and a mother who didn’t fail to inform him of this fact, as well as with a daemon who seems to take particular glee in letting him know just _how_ terribly sentimental he is. Never mind that Tiamat herself has been _spelling Liana’s name_ with her tail for the past few minutes. No--Louis’ offhand mention of being rather fond of Bruno Mars’ _Grenade_ is far more embarrassing.

“Well, it is,” says Tiamat. “You practically got together because of that song.”

“Because of that man,” Louis clarifies, because Harry hadn’t been tweeting lyrics to _Grenade_ all those months ago. “But that is beside the point--I’m just saying I like the song.”

“Mhmm,” Tiamat hums again. “Because it reminds you of Harry.”

Louis turns his head away from her with a frustrated growl. “I don’t suppose telling you _everything_ reminds me of Harry would help matters much, would it?” he says tightly.

Tiamat sounds smug. “Nope,” she says. “But say it anyway--it’s cute.”

“ _You’re_ cute,” Louis retorts, but he lets his hand fall back against the duvet anyway.

“I am, aren’t I?” says Tiamat, pleased. The song comes to an end, beat fading out and segueing into advert for some sort of fizzy drink.

Louis reaches out to cut off the stream on his laptop with a yawn. “It’s still a good song,” he says. “I heard Zayn humming it in the shower the other day and he sounded really good.”

“Mhmm.” Tiamat finishes the second ‘a’  in Liana’s name and starts again.

Louis has no idea what to do with her. “I was going to harmonize with him,” he eventually decides to say, continuing his conversation as if his soul isn’t spelling Harry’s soul’s name with her tail. “But I don’t think that’s proper shower etiquette.”

The door to Louis’ hotel room swings open and Zayn pads over and plops down on the bed next to him. “What’s not proper etiquette?”

Louis doesn’t look away from Tiamat, whose tail falls back onto the bed abruptly. “Impromptu shower concerts,” he says. “You didn’t even know I was there, did you?”

Zayn blinks. “What?”

“Louis left his Nintendo DS in your room the other day,” Tiamat explains. “We might have snuck in to get it.”

“Traitor.” Louis flicks her in the ear and she swats at him, eyes rolling.

Zayn is still blinking. “What?”

“ _Grenade_ is a good song?” Louis tries. “I think we should sing it for one of the concerts.”

The door to Louis’ hotel room swings open again and this time Niall comes in, eating a sandwich and having a long discussion with Eirian about Pokémon. “I’m just saying I have hooves, is all,” his daemon is saying when the door finishes shutting.

“You think we should sing what now?” says Zayn.

“Hooves,” says Eirian. “Obviously I’m superior. Like, fiery mane and tail aside.”

Niall makes a face at Eirian, before turning to Louis and Zayn. “What’s this about singing?” he asks.

“Louis wants us to sing _Grenade_ ,” says Zayn. “Probably not tonight.”

“No, Zayn, of course not tonight,” Louis snaps. “We’ve not even talked about arrangements I was just saying--”

 “Hang on, _Grenade_?” Niall interrupts  him and sits down heavily on the bed.  Louis has to shift his legs around to accommodate him, because while Harry and he make it work at night, technically it’s only built for one adult sized human, let alone five.

“You’re not adult sized,” says Tiamat, like the evil thing she is.

Louis flicks her in the ear again, but also pretends she hasn’t spoken.

When he looks around, Zayn is sitting cross-legged to his right and smirking at him. He’s got Fi in his lap and is stroking her like some sort of mafia overlord. Louis kicks him.

“The Bruno Mars song?” says Niall, unconcerned with the impromptu slap fight Zayn and Louis start having.

When Zayn goes for his stomach, Louis sits up, arms coming up defensively to protect himself. “What?” he says.

“The song,” says Niall, watching the two of them patiently. He takes a bit of his sandwich. “Bruno Mars, yeah?”

“You probably shouldn’t eat on the bed,” points out Eirian, but with resignation. She’s loitering by the bed, resting against it and watching Louis and Zayn with amused eyes.

Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn a bit and waits for him to stop trying to jab him in the ribs. “Yeah,” he says, answering Niall’s question. “It’s good, right?”

“Mmm.” Niall chews for a bit. “Tommo, are you being sappy again?”

Zayn perks right up. “Does this somehow relate to Harry?” he says eagerly. Fi slides off his lap and very smugly settles on top of Tiamat, who shifts around so that she’s not taking up most of the space. “I should have known.”

Louis blushes a little and very pointedly does not meet their eyes. “What makes you think it has to do with Harry?” he says, to the duvet.

Niall snorts out a bought of laughter and Zayn snickers.

“Harry tweeted a bunch of Bruno Mars lyrics,” explains Tiamat, because, as above mentioned, she rather enjoys making Louis’ life a living hell. “And one time I walked in on the two of them in the shower and they were full out performing _Just The Way You Are_.”

Louis’ eyes snap up and he points at her. “First of all, you were bloody there, _Ti_ , seeing as you were in the bloody shower.”

Tiamat makes a face at him.

“And second of all we were not performing--”

The door to Louis’ hotel room swings open for a final time, this time revealing Harry, who actually does have the other key because it’s his hotel room as well, and Liam.

“Who’s performing what, now?” says Harry, coming to climb into Louis’ lap like the terrible child he is. He’s fully recovered now, but only just started to walk with that same bounce in his step. Louis has to work very hard to pretend that he’s not relieved.

“We are, apparently,” says Niall. “And Bruno Mars.”

Harry goes faintly pink about the ears. Louis pretends he doesn’t notice and pets his curls a few times.

“Are we?” Liam actually sounds somewhat enthusiastic about this. “That’d be sick--which song?”

Which is how Louis accidentally decides that One Direction’s newest song should be _Grenade_.

\--

They spend the next few rehearsals working out the logistics of adding a new song. Liam takes the reins on that, perfectly happy to sit down with the higher-ups and negotiate when and where to insert it, while the rest of the boys end up on arrangement duty. Louis isn’t entirely sure how, but he ends up getting tasked with most of it (not that the X-Factor doesn’t have plenty of other people who get paid to arrange songs). He thinks it has to do with the fact that he’s not half-bad at the piano. He hadn’t even meant to mention it--Tiamat had--and he most certainly did not intend for the four of them to end up on a detour that led to Harry playing Louis’ Youtube covers on his laptop for the entire crew to hear.

“This has nothing to do with the song,” Louis says, when Harry shows no sign of pausing his cover of The Fray’s _Look After You_.

“But, Louis, you were sixteen.” Harry sounds entranced.

Zayn and Niall have moved on and are arguing over who gets the first verse. Louis spares them a short glance, because they all know it’s going to be Liam anyway, before turning his attention back to Harry.

“Yes,” he tells him. “So was everyone in this room.”

“What, sixteen?” says Harry.

As if on cue, sixteen-year-old-Louis starts wailing on about being people’s baby and how he’ll ‘look after you’. Nineteen-year-old-Louis winces. “And pitchy.”

Harry snorts at him and goes to turn it up. “I think you sound lovely,” he tells him. “And it’s a good song.”

Louis pretends he isn’t secretly pleased about it. “It’s my favorite song,” he says. “And it’s not like being sixteen was that big of a deal.” He waves a hand around.

“You were younger than I am now,” Harry clarifies, unperturbed. He looks about two thoughts away from turning up the volume on his laptop, so Louis interrupts before he can.

“So was everyone else,” he returns to.

“Actually, I wasn’t,” says Aiden, and Louis hadn’t even noticed he was here. It looks like he’s only just entered the room, though, so it’s not as if Louis’d been _too_ distracted by having Harry’s undivided attention and his own teenage attempts at a Youtube singing career. Aiden looks amused by everything, at least.

Louis tilts his head back to look up at him. “You weren’t?” he says, grinning.

Aiden smiles back at him, his daemon Kalina making her way steadily over to Tiamat to nudge noses with her. Louis doesn’t actually know what Kalina is--some sort of dog, definitely--but she’s always been equally matched for size next to Tiamat, which is nice. Louis’ missed hanging around with Aiden, to be honest.

“No one’s sure why, but I skipped that year of my life,” Aiden says, just as Louis tunes back in. “It’s a mystery.”

“That explains why you’re so old, then,” he says, never one to let anyone else get the last word. “You’ve been lying this whole time about your age, Mr. Grimshaw.”

Aiden nods seriously. “This is also true,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

Louis goes to respond, but Liana starts muttering something about sitting in people’s laps, and Harry very abruptly cuts off Louis’ cover in the middle of the chorus.

Louis’d been craning his entire head to look up at Aiden, but he shoots Harry a quick glance at the sudden silence.

“What?” Harry stares back at him smugly. “You were right--it has nothing to do with _our_ new song.”

He looks rather pointedly at Aiden as he’s speaking and Kalina widens her eyes down at them, before backing away. Louis isn’t sure, but he thinks Liana’s fur might be bristling--as much as an otter’s fur can bristle, anyway, and Harry’s mouth has an odd tilt to it.

Kalina plops down at Aiden’s side, ears twitching before muttering something under her breath.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tiamat asks, nosing gently at the back of Liana’ neck until Harry’s daemon stop glaring over at Aiden and Kalina.

“How do you mean?” says Liana, not looking away from where she’s been staring down Kalina.

“You’ve gone all puffy,” Tiamat explains dryly.

Louis reaches out a hand to poke her before his brain can catch up with his actions. Luckily, both Harry and Tiamat notice, the other boy coughing pointedly into his hand and Louis’ daemon not so subtly batting at his hand with a paw.

“Twat,” Tiamat says under her breath. “Watch it.”

Liana slides down Harry’s chest and into his lap, eyes darting around the room nervously.

Louis’ palms itch to sooth her. He bites his lip. “Sorry,” he says, and then looks up at Aiden.

“Right, okay, that’s my cue to leave then,” says Aiden. He’s got a funny look on his face--if Louis didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he looked jealous--and Kalina’s gotten to her feet. Louis considers commenting on that, but Harry’s still frowning, so Louis shifts around on the ground so that he can use him as a pillow.

Harry lets out a long breath when Louis’ chin drops down on his shoulder, twitching a little when Louis breathes against his ear.

“Bye bye, Tomlinson,” says Aiden. “Styles.”

Harry’s turned his attention back to the laptop, mouse idling over Louis’ cover of The Black Eyed Peas, but he lifts a hand to wave at Aiden, anyway. “Bye.”

Louis smiles up at him, digging his chin into Harry’s shoulder one last time, before pulling back. “Bye, Grimshaw,” he says. “Now back to the song?” He licks at his lips nervously, staring down at the screen.

When he looks back up, Harry is looking at him like he can’t quite believe his luck. He does that a lot, now that Louis thinks about it. Harry is an open book in the worst kind of way, because all he has to do is look at Louis and Louis wants to give him the entire world on a plate. Now, with the boy’s damn sparkly eyes _sparkling_ at him, Louis doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

He ends up digging his chin into the junction of Harry’s neck and collarbone again until Harry squirms away laughing, because that’s safer than saying something lovesick about the state of Harry’s eyes. “What’re you looking at, Styles?” he says, refusing to let Harry get away. “Is it my stunning looks--because I can’t help being better looking than everyone in this room.”

He hears what distinctly sounds like Aiden laughing, and sticks a hand in the air with his middle finger up. With his luck, someone gets that on film; somewhere in the world (Doncaster), Louis’ mum is crying.

Harry manages to extract himself from Louis hold and straightens his clothes with as much dignity as he can manage. “Nothing,” he answers. “Now about the song?”

Louis comes around to lean over his shoulder again, staring down at Harry’s laptop with his brow furrowed. He’d chew on a pencil, but he hasn’t got a pencil, since they’d decided to try to do this as electronically as possible to save paper, or something. “Well, Liam’ll lead,” he decides after a moment. “And obviously you’ll have the chorus.” He shoots Liam and the others a look. Zayn and Niall appear to have reached some sort of agreement. “But I don’t know why we’re even doing this since they’re just going to have someone professional do it--”

“I really like you, you know?” Harry interrupts.

When Louis looks over at him, he notices that Harry is staring at him. It’s possible he’s been doing that the entire time Louis was speaking. He swallows. “Yay?” he says eventually. “I mean, me too, but what prompted this--?”

“Do I need a reason?” Harry sounds amused. “I like you loads, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis swallows again. “Okay?”

“Now, stop flirting with Aiden Grimshaw.” And with that, Harry gets to his feet to go talk to Liam. Louis catches the beginning of his sentence, something about how _Louis_ ought to have the bridge for the song, but the rest of it gets lost in sudden rush of blood in his ears.

He looks down at Tiamat. “Alright, be honest with me,” he says, looking down at her. “Have I been flirting with Aiden Grimshaw?”

Tiamat curls her tail around her paws and hums a bit. “Well, I mean, objectively, yes,” she says. “But I know for a fact you’re not serious about it.”

Louis blinks. “Of course I’m not serious about it,” he says. “But I haven’t been flirting with Aiden, have I?”

Tiamat blinks at him. “There was that time you were in his lap--”

Louis feel his cheeks burn for no reason. “But Harry and I were a thing at that point,” he protests. “Also people can sit in other people’s laps and have it be platonic.”

“They can?” says Niall. “Good, because the ground looks cold, but Harry actually scares me.”

Louis hadn’t noticed Niall approaching either, and all he can do is sputter and try to keep breathing when Niall settles into his lap. “Oomph,” he says. He’s got to work on his observation skills. “Hello, Niall.”

Niall looks over at where Harry’s left his laptop. “You know, I think I know the chords to _Grenade_.” He pauses and appears to mull that over. “Incidentally.”

Eirian circles a few times next to the two of them before settling onto the ground with the same amount of force as Niall. Of course, Tiamat isn’t underneath her, so there’s no great gust of air and pained groan.

Louis shifts a bit trying to get comfortable. “Right,” he says hoarsely. “Awesome--lads!” He manages to raise his voice a bit. “Niall can play the guitar for the song, right?”

Liam and Zayn stare back at the two of them curiously, and Harry sort of glares, before Liam calls back, “Do you think we should replace _Chasing Cars_?”

Louis looks over at Zayn, who looks back over at him and Niall, who shrugs. “ _Grenade_ ’s a good song,” he says.

“That’s a yes,” says Louis. He wraps his arms around Niall and squeezes him. He’d been hoping doing so would make him get up, but he has no such luck.

Instead of moving, Niall just makes a pleased noise and coos. “Aw, Tommo, love you too!” he says, and turns to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

Or he tries to. Louis twists away sharply at the last minute, and they end up bumping lips in an _actual_ kiss. Not a _real_ actual kiss, since Louis pulls back within a second of their lips touching and Niall goes stock still.

 “Hey, Louis?”

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever heard Niall speak this quietly. “Yeah?”

“How platonic do you think kissing is?”

Louis darts his eyes over to Harry, who looks tight around the eyes for some inane reason, and then back to Niall. “Not so much?”

Niall nods. “Right.” He gets to his feet, and then reaches out to pull Louis to his feet. “It was nice knowing you, Louis Tomlinson,” he says, shaking Louis’ hand and then straightening his clothes. He turns to Harry. “I’m ready.”

“Um,” says Louis. “What’s going on?”

“Well, jealousy,” says Tiamat. “Although you’d think Harry would understand that we’re his, by now.”

Louis watches Niall follow Harry around the room and considers this. “Huh,” he says. “We should probably fix that.”

“Yep.” Tiamat pops the ‘p’. “But, also, we should stop flirting with Aiden.”

“For the last time, we were not flirting with Aiden,” he hisses, and then manages a smile when Liam come over with sheet music.

“So you’ll be singing the bridge, then,” he says.

“Right,” Louis agrees. “I can do that.”

\--

“Oh my God,” he says later that night after their final Sheffield show. They’re lying in bed, supposedly sleeping, but Louis has only just realized what this means. “Harry, I’ve got to sing that bit of _Grenade_ in front of real people.”

Harry snuffles into the pillows a bit. “Yes, Lou,” he says. His voice is still a little raspy from the sleeping and the singing and from Louis making him very aware that whatever flirting he’d been doing with Aiden Grimshaw had been nothing worth worrying over. “You do.”

“ _Real people_ , Harry,” Louis continues. “Who have _real_ ears.”

Harry sighs and seems to give up on going back to sleep. “I should hope they have real ears,” he says. “Seeing as it’s a concert.”

Louis whacks him in the arm. “Shut up,” he says. “We can’t all have solos in every song.”

Harry blinks at him. “Yes, we can,” he says. “You’ve got a few solos on the album. Niall has solos on the album. Zayn has--”

Louis reaches over and slaps his palm over his mouth. “You are missing the point, Harold,” he snaps. “ _Real people_.”

“Louis, your audition was in front of real people,” Harry says reasonably, through Louis’ hand. “Simon Cowell, of all people.”

Louis keeps his hand pressed over Harry’s mouth. “Okay, true,” he says. “But, to be fair, Seren was the most terrifying thing about that experience--bloody turned her head all the way round when I walked off stage--”

Tiamat makes a pained noise from behind him and shudders a bit against the bed. “It was horrific,” she says. The day of Louis’ audition, she’d been too nervous to stay in one shape, so they’d spent the first half of the experience getting that conversation out of the way. After the singing, though, Simon Cowell’s owl daemon had followed them with her eyes the whole way off stage, which hadn’t helped Louis much with not feeling about two ticks away from a nervous breakdown.

“I think it’s cool,” says Liana. “Very convenient for keeping track of things.”

“It was creepy,” Louis repeats, ignoring her. “And it was not okay.”

Harry yawns. “Right,” he says, leaning his chin into Louis’ palm and blinking sleepily. Louis’ eyes end up darting down the length of his forearm to the shadows where his armpit meets the bed, and he swallows.

Harry’s naked, Louis’ naked, and all in all it’s a terrible combination.

“That means it can’t be worse than that?” says Harry, apparently unaffected by their various states of undress.

Louis lowers the sheet covering himself a little to even the playing field, because he’s not afraid of fighting dirty. “But what if I’m awful?” he can’t help but blurt out, even as the way Harry’s eyes get a smidge more intense make something warm unfurl in his abdomen.

Harry sighs deeply into Louis hand and licks him across the palm. “Louis,” he says. “You’re not going to be awful.”

Louis wrinkles his nose and pulls his hand back. “Gross, Harry,” he says, making sure to wipe his hand on Harry’s side of the pillow.

Harry just dimples back at him. “You love me,” he says.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not gross,” says Louis. “Now, stop distracting me.”

Harry continues to smile dopily at him. “You’re going to be great, Lou,” he says. “Everyone will love you.”

“You’re just saying that because _you_ love me,” Louis says, a bit desperately.

“It’s true,” Harry agrees, words slurring together under yet another yawn. “Can we go back to sleep now?”

“Fine.” Louis flops back down against the pillows and stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “Leave me to my panic.”

Harry scoots closer to him on the bed and drapes an arm around his waist, giving him a quick squeeze. “Last time I did that you went and dumped shampoo all over Liam.”

Louis’ lips twitch up at the memory. “I drew a dick on him,” he tells Harry. “It was ace.”

“Whose dick was it?” Harry settles more solidly against the bed and Louis, one leg dragging against some part of Tiamat and making Louis bite back a hiss.

His daemon makes a pained noise. “No,” she complains, muffled. Louis reckons she’s using Liana as a pillow, or something. “No fucking--sleeping.”

“No panicking, either,” agrees Harry’s daemon, also muffled. “We’ve reached our quota for today.”

Louis rolls his eyes at them. “Don’t look at me,” he says, even though it’s dark and no one’s looking at anyone. “I’m not the one feeling people up.”

Harry growls and flexes the arm he has wrapped around Louis. “I’m not feeling anybody up,” he protests. “I’m just asking about your day.”

“And dicks,” says Louis. “Liam’s dick.”

“The dick you drew on Liam’s face,” Harry corrects. He still sounds a bit cross, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the grin Louis can feel when he turns and buries his face in Louis’ shoulder, as opposed to the pillow. There has to be something poetic in that, seeing as when Louis lifts his head enough to see Tiamat over the top of Harry’s curls, she is in fact using Liana as a pillow.

“I think that makes it even _more_ Liam’s dick,” Louis decides, snuggling back down on the bed and closer to Harry.

“Mmm.” Harry yawns again. “Are we good to sleep, now?” His breathing evens out nearly as soon as he’s finished speaking, and Louis would bet he’s fallen back to sleep.

“Harry?” No response. Louis feels his lips twitch up into a smile despite himself. “Night, Haz,” he says, quietly, even though the other boy can’t hear him. “Love you.”

\--

[ _Grenade_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVRVt-AukuM) goes off without a hitch, despite the few hiccups when Liam and Zayn both end up with sore throats in time for one of the London shows. Louis’ arrived at some sort of zen state, calm despite Niall’s rather obvious jitters, and he can’t quite explain why. He’s only been sitting with Niall for the past few minutes because he doesn’t know where Harry’s popped off to, and also because Niall looks about two seconds from bursting into song. Or something. Louis never thought a person could _be_ that excited about something, but Niall’s just been having the time of his life.

That being said, the shaking’s a bit annoying.

“You’re going to shake right out of the stadium,” says Tiamat. She’s not visible from where they’ve set up camp in Wembley Arena, be it that she’s nearly under the seats, so Niall can’t very well respond.

Eirian makes a pained bleating noise on his behalf.

Louis lifts a hand to hide a smile. “You’re like one of those Duracell adverts,” he says, voice somehow staying flat and deadpan. “The one with pink rabbit who can go for hours. Can you go for hours, Niall? Tell me your secret.”

 “Louis.” Niall sounds equally pained. “It’s Wembley Arena. How are you not shitting your pants?”

“Well, for one, I sort of got that out of the way a while back,” he says. “You can ask Liam, if you like.”

Niall frowns. “Does this have to do with the shampoo tweet?” he asks.

Louis and Liam hadn’t really sought to explain that to anyone, although Harry knows by virtue of being there and Zayn probably knows because Zayn tends to know all. Niall, however, has been in all sorts of knots about it. Metaphorical and entirely joking knots, of course, but knots all the same.

Louis sighs. “I can draw a dick on your face with shampoo when you get an amazing follower if you want, Niall,” he says.

Niall blinks rapidly a few times. “Cool.” He turns forward to stare out at the Arena again. “This is sick.”

Louis looks out with him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I mean--it’d be even sicker if we were the ones doing the show. Like, the whole show.”

Niall nods. “One Direction at the Wembley Arena,” he says, voice gone all announcer-like. “Tickets on sale now.”

Louis lets that wash over him. “It’d be brilliant,” he decides. “But first--I think they’re ready for you.”

He points over to where they’ve set up cameras for the [tour diary](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnMHWELvl2M).

Niall grins. “Awesome,” he says. “Back in a bit.”

Harry appears in his periphery carrying what looks like biscuits in one of his rather massive hands. “Kay,” he tells Niall. “I won’t be.”

He thinks he hears Niall snickering at him as he and Tiamat head off to steal treats from Harry, but he ignores him in favor of smiling brightly at Harry.

“Hi,” he says, snagging one of the pastries and taking a large bite. “How are you?”

“Bit nervous,” says Harry. One of his dimples is showing in his right cheek, even as Liana leans up to nibble a bit from Louis’ biscuit.

“Oh?” Louis swallows, aware that he’s not all that attractive at present, and pretends he’s not just spoken with his mouth full. “I thought that was my job.”

Tiamat makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter from behind him. Louis goes to elbow her in the nose.

“You’ve certainly been nervous enough for the four of us,” agrees Liana.

Louis can’t very well elbow _her_ in the nose, because they’re sort of in public. He settles for narrowing his eyes at her. “I’ll have you know that from now on there will be absolutely no nerves from me,” he says.

Liana narrows her eye right back at him. “Oh, really,” she says.

Louis doesn’t back down. “It’s not like anything’s changing on the tour,” he says. “We haven’t got any more song additions or costumes.” 

Liana’s face starts to fall, but then she seems to have an idea. “What if there were, though?”

Louis looks up at Harry, questioningly. “What if there were what, exactly?”

“Costumes.” Harry’s daemon sounds incredibly pleased with herself. “Would you be nervous then?”

Louis blinks. “What sort of costume are we talking about?” he says.

\--

“Oh, absolutely not,” says Liam, when he sees what Louis’ been fussing over in one of Zayn’s sketchpads. “Why are you drawing carrots?”

Louis’ got Zayn pinned to the sofa with most of his upper body and the sketchpad well out of his reach, but every time he so much as goes to turn a few pages, Zayn twitches and Fi nips Tiamat in the ear.

It’s more a nuisance than anything, but the look Tiamat keeps shooting him suggests that if he tries to spy on Zayn’s private drawings of breasts or whatever it is one more time, his daemon is going to turn on him and hold him down while Zayn makes him suffer.

Louis is ticklish; this is no laughing matter.

He pretends to flip another page anyway.

“Ow--Louis.” Tiamat sounds cross.

He goes back to his drawing.

“Louis?” Liam’s still there, then. “Carrots?”

“Carrot costumes, Liam,” says Louis. “And shouldn’t you be not speaking?”

Liam is silent, which is good for his voice, but also suggest he’s probably frowning disapprovingly at Louis. Bethania’s probably also frowning at him, as well as a dog can frown, that is.

“Carrots have got that bit there,” says Zayn, from under him. He gestures at the top of the carrot. “You’ll probably need a hat.”

Liam clears his throat. It still sounds a touch painful. “I’m sorry, who is this carrot costume for?”

“Technically it’s for charity,” Louis tells him, sketching out a half-arsed carrot-top hat and showing Zayn. “And Li dared me.”

There’s a pause.

“Liana,” Louis amends, after a moment. “Sorry, Li.”

Liam signs. “For charity?” he says finally.

“Yep.” Louis pops the ‘p’. “Don’t worry--I’ve gotten Liana to settle for doing it in Nottingham.”

Zayn makes a pained noise and grabs the sketchpad from Louis, who lets him take it without a fight so that he can give Liam his full attention.

On the floor, Fi visibly relaxes, going boneless against Tiamat.

“Nottingham.” Technically, Liam’s completely recovered at this point, but his voice is still a bit raspy around the edges. “That’s in two weeks?”

Louis nods again, pulling the sketchpad back towards him to look at it. Zayn’s finished doodling a little Louis as a carrot and has started sketching the rest of them with facial hair, for some reason. “I’m glad you have a working calendar, Liam,” he says dryly. He watches Zayn give Harry a goatee for a while longer, before pulling out his phone.

 _Ask li if she’d be cool with the rest of you wearing fake beards_ , he texts Harry. _Also where are you? We’ve got the signing thing._

Almost immediately, Louis’ graced with the silver bubble telling him Harry’s typing, before he responds _. Li says bring it on_ , he’s typed, and then, _The room where are you?_

 _With Zayn_ , Louis replies. _We’re designing carrot costumes._

There’s a moment of brief radio silence. _Niall’s here_ , Harry texts finally. _Liana told him about the costume thing_.

Louis waits a moment.

_He’s not stopped laughing since._

_Wanker_ , he tells Harry. _Hit him for me_.

 _I’m afraid he’s going to blow something_ , Harry replies.

 _Fuck him_ , Louis types out. _Push him off the bed_.

A moment later, his phone buzzes angrily with a series of texts from Niall. _What’d you tell Harry to do that for?_ reads the first one. After that, Niall’s come to a series of awful (read: wonderful) conclusions about the nature of Louis and Harry’s relationship:

_He didn’t even blink like._

_One second I was reading the text and the next I was falling._

_How the fuck do you have that kind of power over him, Tommo?_

Louis waits a moment. Technically it’s not even a sex thing--he’s pretty sure the people pleasing is a Harry thing in general, which is lovely, but also probably not the best trait to have when you’ve got fans all around the world. It’s a good thing Harry’s also got Louis, since _he’s_ not afraid to step on some toes in the name of protecting his boy.

Niall doesn’t disappoint. _Oh god_ , he types. _Oh god never mind_.

Louis cackles down at his phone and flips back to Harry’s messages. _Did you tell Ni something?_ he asks.

 _....maybe_ , Harry replies. _;)_

 _Ha,_ Louis types back. _You’re the best._

_I know._

Louis rolls his eyes. _Happy to see fame hasn’t changed you, Harold_ , he texts. _Now get your arse out here--signing._

When he finally puts the phone down, he finds Liam and Zayn gathered around the sketchpad. Louis is still using Zayn as a sofa, so he’s not quite sure _how_ any of this happened.

“Um,” he says.

“Do you think I should have a mustache as well, Louis?” says Liam, like he hadn’t been very much opposed to the entire thing however many minutes ago.

Louis looks down at his phone worriedly. It’s not been more than five minutes, what _has_ he missed. “A mustache?” he says finally. “Sure?”

“Harry’ll have a soul patch,” Zayn interjects. “Yeah?”

Louis thinks that over. “Yes, definitely,” he says, even as he texts Harry asking.

 _What do you think of a soul patch?_ he sends. _Obviously not in real life, since I think that takes more than two weeks, but for charity?_ He mulls that over. _Also would a soul patch affect your ability to blow me, you think?_

There’s a small pause before he gets a response.

_Um, Lou?_

Oh God. Niall. His phone says Niall at the top of the screen. Louis accidentally said that to Niall.

On the floor, Tiamat is laughing at him.

 _Yes, Niall, my love?_ he types, because Louis is going to own this entire mistake. _Problem?_

He doesn’t get a response from Niall, because the door to Liam and Zayn’s room comes open and him and Harry trudge him holding phones and looking pink cheeked.

“What’s this about you leaving me for Niall?” says Harry, to the room at large.

“I’m not leaving you for Niall,” Louis says. “But I am getting blowjobs from him on the side.”

Paul, who’d been behind the two of them in the doorway, heaves a long sigh. He’s somewhat used to their lack of filters at this point, since it’s been months now. His daemon Nuada usually just stares at Louis, which does nothing to deter him from saying ridiculous things, but also is probably the cause of Louis’ general unease around people with bird daemons.

“Oh good,” says Harry. “For a second I was worried.” He grins. “Is Niall any good?”

Niall barks out a startled laugh, even as Zayn very carefully closes his sketchpad and sets the pen down on the sofa.

Louis pretends to consider that. “Well, I dunno,” he says. “Because while Niall’s got pretty great technique, your lack of gag reflex--”

“Okay!” Liam interrupts. “I think we have a signing to go to, yes?”

“Prude,” Louis teases him, but he gets off Zayn anyway. “I’m not actually leaving you for Niall,” he tells Harry, as they file out of the room. “Nor is he blowing me.”

Harry just shakes his head at him and falls into step next to him.

At the signing, Harry gets a t-shirt from a fan that proclaims ‘[Harry Loves Louis](http://bulletprooflarry.tumblr.com/post/78013515842/7-march-2011-manchester-harry-changes-into-this)’ with a bright red heart in the place of the word ‘love’. He pulls the thing on over the shirt he’s got on, grins wide, and Louis has to work very hard not to grin so hard his face breaks in two.

\--

By the time of the show in Brighton, Louis’ finalized the details on his little carrot costume for charity event. He’ll wear the thing for the performance of _Heroes_ , and Tiamat need not wear anything of her own. Mostly, this is because the moment Louis’d even suggested anything, Tiamat had given him a look that said she wasn’t sure if leopards could swallow lads from Doncaster, but she’d try. Not even Harry, giggling at the image of Tiamat with a carrot top hat to match Louis’, had been able to dissuade her from spending the entire sound-check prowling about the stage and staring at Louis. 

“Do you just not have to blink?” Louis says, when they’ve been released half-an hour early and instructed to hang around backstage for some much needed down time.

Harry’s been riding some sort of infectious buzz of energy, and Louis can’t quite determine if it’s just the return of his nerves, or if he’s that excited about how they’ve got five hundred likes on Facebook. Or like, high. “Gaspar never blinked,” he says, about Gemma’s daemon. “Like, ever.”

Louis mulls that over. Gaspar’s a Siamese cat, which he supposes is still a feline, but not a leopard. He frowns. “Well, she usually blinks,” he points out. “Right?”

Zayn and Liam had been having another one of their silent conversations without speaking, but they both look up when they realize Louis’ addressing them. “I’m sorry?” says Zayn. “Are still talking about putting Ti in a carrot hat?”

Niall snickers at that, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I vote yes,” he says.

“It’s only fair,” says Eirian.

“Well, do you want to wear beards, then?” says Tiamat, a bit sharply. “I did not agree to this--this is your fault.”

Louis slaps a hand to his chest. “My fault?” he says, mock-offended. “Of the two of us which is the most stubborn?”

“I’m relatively certain you’re both equally stubborn,” Zayn interjects dryly. “That’s sort of the point.”

Louis ignores him in favor of adding, “Also, I’m not the one arguing you should wear the thing.”

“Speaking of wearing things,” says Liam, sounding a mix of grateful for the subject change, and also amused. “I like your new top, Haz.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“From the signing,” Liam continues, even as Paul clears his throat from behind them and reaches out to touch Louis on the shoulder. “The one you’ve got on right now?”

Harry blinks down at his chest. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Right--that.”

Louis pretends he’s not smiling. “Probably should cover that up, yeah.”

Harry frowns down at the t-shirt. “But I like wearing it,” he says. “And it’s true.”

Liana scoffs. “Truer words have never been spoken,” she says from around Harry’s neck. “Or printed,  I supposed.” She frowns. “Do people print t-shirts?”

Zayn’s eyes light up, and Louis flips his glasses down on the bridge of his nose in a parody of a schoolteacher.

“Well,” he starts to say, before Paul interrupts them with a hand on his shoulder.

“Louis,” he says, voice a bit gruff. “Do you have a second?”

Liam stops mid-sentence, head tilted to the side curiously, and Louis lets his mouth fall shut on whatever ribbing remarks he was about to add to the conversation.

“Oh,” he says. “Um.”

“Just for a moment,” Paul amends. “You four go on ahead.”

Niall’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle, and Pauls’ daemon Nuada makes a shrill noise from where she’s perched on his shoulder.

“Oi,” says Paul. “Behave.”

Niall raises both hands innocently. “What’re you looking at me for?” he says. “You’ve already got Tommo singled out from the rest of us--without Louis we’re model citizens.”

Zayn and Liam nod along like the betraying bastards that they are. Harry looks a bit caught off guard, and Louis thinks one of the people for PR’s had their eye on him for the past few minutes, but he really can’t be sure, because his honor is at stake.

“I resent that,” he says. “I’m the modelest citizen of you lot,” he says. “And yes, I know that’s not a word, _Malik_.”

“Just making sure,” says Zayn, raising both his eyebrows and his hands. “I’m not the one who failed my A-Levels.” On his shoulder, Fi makes a high, trilling noise of amusement, but her tail swings about a few times to soften the blow when Louis turns his stare onto her.

“Low blow,” he tells Zayn, before turning back to Paul.

Their tour manager looks even more uncomfortable, which seems odd, but Louis waves the rest of the boys away anyway. “But go on,” he says. “I’ll just be a moment--and I promise I haven’t pranked anyone without telling you. I’ve learned better after last time.”

Liam rolls his eyes, muttering something about how last time no one else was around but Harry anyway, and Harry simply shrugs guiltily.

“What can I say?” he says, pointing down at his t-shirt. “Harry hearts Louis.”

The other boys groan at him for being romantic and sappy, but Louis just grins at him and watches them head further off backstage.

“Yeah?” He turns to Paul with his widest grin possible. “Have I done something awful?”

For a second, he thinks Paul’s going to tell him to just get on with it, but before he can, the man’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know,” he says. “Have you?”

Louis blinks back at him innocently. “No, I was asking you,” he says. “You only ever need me ‘for a second’ when I’ve done something wrong.” He puts air quotes around ‘for a second’. “Tour Dad.”

Paul doesn’t crack a smile like he usually does when Louis calls him that. On his shoulder, Nuada doesn’t blink. Something icy settles into the pit of his stomach, and Louis shifts around on the balls of his feet nervously.

“You should take lessons from _her_ ,” Louis hisses to Tiamat, not looking away from Paul and shifting even more. He’s glad he’s taken to wearing glasses, because it means he has something to do with his hands in the ensuing silence.

“Shut up,” she snaps, but not so subtly presses closer to him.

“Just, um.” Paul looks incredibly uncomfortable, and by osmosis Louis is starting to feel a bit unnerved. More so, anyway. “I worry about you, is all.”

Louis blinks, more than a little off-balanced. That was not where he thought this conversation was going. In fact, he was pretty sure this conversation was going to end with Louis being told to stop yelling inane things in tour diaries, or to leave Sean’s carefully organized system for keeping track of their in-ears alone. At the very least, he thought he was going to take the fall for whatever horrible attempt at a prank Niall’s tried his hand at this week. Paul’s sincere, but out of the blue, praise is not unwanted, but it is unexpected.

Louis fiddles with his glasses again. “I should hope so,” he says eventually. “Be it that you are in fact my Tour Dad.”

Paul’s lips twitch as per usual this time, and he reaches out to ruffle Louis’ hair.

Louis goes squealing backwards, the tension that’d settled into Tiamat’s shoulders melting away instantly. “Oi, watch it,” he says, carefully reconstructing his fringe. “This fringe is famous now, Higgins. I’m worth millions.”

Paul rolls his eyes at him. “Get back to work, Tomlinson,” he says, shaking his head.

Louis laughs the entire way out into the hall, where he finds Harry, fiddling on his phone and muttering back and forth with Liana. He’s alone, wearing Zayn’s jumper, and for a second Louis wants nothing more than to find the other three members of their band and to yell at them because why have they left Harry alone. But then the slight downturn of Harry’s lips catches his attention, and he stops being angry and starts worrying.

He stops. “Harry?”

Harry startles, looks visibly sheepish, and puts away his phone. “Lou,” he says. He looks a bit blotchy around the cheeks and eyes, but before Louis can address that, Harry’s reaching out to tug on his hair. “Did you say something about your fringe?” he asks.

Louis pauses, visibly thrown off kilter. “You heard that?” he manages finally, fighting to urge to pull away from Harry’s fingers. It comes from having four younger sisters, but Louis is very particular about when and what people are allowed to do with his hair. That he let Zayn play with it for one of their initial [X-Factor interviews](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rczy8X2hZ7k&t=2m15s) says more about their relationship than anything else. (Although at the time, Louis’d been more than a little distracted by Harry’s hand on his hip. )

He lets Harry straighten and muss the front of his hair without comment.

“You’re very loud,” points out Liana. “To be fair.” Her voice sounds off as well. but Louis can’t do more than spare her a brief look if he doesn’t want to accidentally let Harry take one of his eyes out.

“This is true,” says Tiamat. She sounds equally intrigued by the subtle ways Harry and Liana seem off, but equally hesitant to say anything.

“Come on.” Louis reaches up to take hold of Harry’s hand.

Harry doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing, and his eyes got a bit wild around the edges for a quick second. “Sorry.” He looks restless.

Louis frowns at him. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Um, yeah,” says Harry. “Are you ready to go?”

Louis furrows his brow even harder at him, but nods. “If you’re sure,” he says again.

Harry tightens his hand around Louis’ fingers, almost like he’s making a point. “I’m tired,” he decides, and tugs Louis into the maze of backstage.

He’s back to his usual manic, happy self at that night show, even going so far to tease the audience a bit during _Grenade_ , so Louis decides it’s not a big deal.

\--

Louis would probably have continued not thinking about it, if it weren’t for the fact that the next day they all get piled into a car for a photoshoot at the Brighton Pier.

Unlike the rest of them, Harry seems a little subdued at the premise of rollercoasters and dodgems and whatever, but he takes the news with a smile, anyway. To be fair, that’s mostly because as soon as they’re safely ensconced behind the reflective glass, Louis climbs into his lap.

“Oops,” he says, when he accidentally elbows Liam in the balls. “Sorry.”

“Hi,” says Harry. “How are you?”

Louis hides a grin in his neck and sighs. “Excited,” he says. “Sleepy.”

“Also sorry,” says Liam, from the side. “So sorry. Like, the most apologetic of people in this car--”

“Come off it, it’s not like you’re dying,” says Louis, rolling his eyes and shifting in Harry’s lap. “I grazed you.”

Liam just glares at him, before Paul raps on the car window and instructs Louis to get in his seat and buckle up.

“I hear your fringe is insured for millions of pounds, now,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to mess it up with blood or something.”

Louis gets out of Harry’s lap and sits heavily down next to him, narrowly avoiding Liana’s tail in the process. “I don’t like how sarcastic you’ve become, Tour Dad,” he says. “It’s not a very good look on you.”

Paul just rolls his eyes and steps away from the car, waving them off towards Brighton Pier.

“But rollercoasters,” Louis says, when it becomes clear that no one else is going to be saying anything else. “And dodgems.”

“I’ve never been on a rollercoaster before,” says Harry, a bit quietly, nearly drowned out by Niall challenging the rest of them to a competition.

“I bet I can go on more rides than any of you,” he says, chest puffed out.

Louis swings his head around to stare at him, before swinging it back around to look at Tiamat.

“Don’t look at me,” says Tiamat. “I’m practicing not talking to avoid ‘causing a stir’.” Obviously Tiamat can’t put air quotes around anything, but it’s a near thing.

Louis head thumps back against the seat anyway. “Ugh, don’t remind me,” he says, sighing. “Is anyone else feeling micromanaged?”

He looks over at Harry, expecting some sort of humor or comforting words, but instead finds the other boy biting at his lip nervously.

“Harry?”

Harry hums.

“You’re not actually nervous about the rollercoaster, are you?”

Harry shrugs, noncommittally. “I’ve never been on one before,” he says.

Louis purses his lips. “We’ll have to start with a baby rollercoaster,” he says, joking. “Maybe a little one.”

\--

“You’re hilarious,” says Liana, once they’ve been put through hair and make-up and given stylish new clothes to wear and vague instructions to have fun. “Very deserving of all those online awards.”

Louis follows where Harry and her are looking to land on Brighton Pier’s lone rollercoaster. “But you wanted me to win those online awards,” he tells her. “Harry even endorsed me on twitter.” When Harry shoots him a slightly panicked look, he adds, “Didn’t you?” to the end of his sentence, in case any of the people around them have got cameras to film his little slip. “Sorry.”

Instead of smiling, like he usually would, Harry just shrugs, shoulders tight. “Yes,” he says tersely.

Louis tries not to be deterred by the stiltedness of his tone. “Is it the size of that one?” he says, pointing at the sorry excuse for a rollercoaster. “Because I promise to hold your hand if you need it, Harold.” He steps back away from Harry reflexively, already expecting some sort of protest and half-hearted punch to the shoulder.

Harry doesn’t say anything.

Louis narrows his eyes. “H, what is wrong with you?” he says finally. “You’ve been all out of sorts since Paul went all Tour Dad on me.”

“Is Paul your Tour Dad as well, then?” asks Niall, craning his head back to look at the two of them. They’ve somehow ended up at the rear of the group, as usual, with Tiamat slinking along behind them like an over-elegant guard-leopard, to mix metaphors. Louis isn’t sure why he’s all that surprised.

“He’s yours also?” he calls back to Niall, still looking at the line of Harry’s profile out of the corner of his eye. “Does that make us brothers?” He goes to put an arm around Harry, just as they’ve reached the first bit where they’re due to film the intro to their behind the scenes video.

Instead of making some sort of terrible joke about how they’re sleeping together, Harry actually stiffens under his arm, and Louis’ eyes narrow even more.

“Can you give us a minute?” he says to the other boys, tugging Harry away from the group and pleading with Liam with his eyes.

Liam purses his lips disapprovingly, but heads over to the photographer to ask for the ‘what sort of look are we going for, again, exactly’ spiel anyway. Liam is such a good friend. When Louis’s done sorting Harry out, he’ll tell him.

For now, he settles for pulling Harry out of the line of cameras and fans and shoving him up against a wall.

Harry goes willingly, still not meeting Louis’ eyes, and Tiamat makes an annoyed hissing noise.

“Harry,” she says. “Start talking.”

Harry’s head jolts up when Tiamat says his name, but instead of looking happy, he looks even more raw around the edges. “Lou,” he says, looking beseechingly into Louis eyes and not even acknowledging how close Tiamat’s gotten to his legs. “What are we doing?”

Louis blinks. “Having a photoshoot for our soon to be wildly successful and popular book?” he says. “What did you think we were doing?”

Harry laughs at that, which is comforting because even though it’s more watery than it usually is, it still means that he can’t help but find Louis funny. Louis pretends something in him doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief at that. He tries to ignore it, but some small part of him will always worry that the moment Harry stops finding Louis funny is the moment Harry stops wanting Louis period.

“Louis?”

Louis startles, pulled out of his own thoughts by Harry’s voice in his ear and Harry’s hand on his face.

“Are you alright?” Harry’s a lot closer than he’d been at the start of this confrontation, and close enough now that if he wanted, Louis could step forward and Liana would be pressed up against his chest.

Louis tries not to lean into that one point of contact like some sort of starving man. He’d been wrapped around the two of them not twelve hours ago that morning--Louis’ treacherous heart is being ridiculous. “Um, yeah,” he says. “Got a bit lost in my head, there.”

Harry nods. “Did you want to talk to me about something--?”

“Have I done something wrong?”  Louis blurts out before he can help himself. And, oh God that was _not_ what he wanted to say _at all_ , but he can’t very well take it back now, can he, so he continues rambling helplessly. “Because if I have, I’m really sorry, Harry, but you have to tell me because I think I’m going insane and--”

Harry’s face goes through a series of emotions quick-fire fast, cycling through surprise, confusion, something Louis is afraid to call love, before he’s leaning forward and kissing Louis quiet.

“Louis,” he says, mispronouncing the name fondly. “I love you.”

Louis swallows and tries to pretend he’s not affected by those three words. “Harold,” he says back. “Um, ditto.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs at him again, but proper laughs this time, so Louis goes up on his toes to kiss _him_ quiet.

“But seriously,” he says when they pull apart, fingers twitching to get in Harry’s hair and mess it up a bit. “Are you mad about something?”

“Louis, no,” says Harry quickly. “No, I--” He breaks off and bites his lip again.

“Stop that,” says Liana. “You’ll bleed.”

“It’s a really nasty habit,” agrees Tiamat, from their feet.

Louis looks down at the two of them with his eyes shut, before opening them to find his daemon looking pleased as can be and Harry’s daemon sitting on top of her head.

Harry follows his eyes downward and breaks out into a helpless stream of giggles. “Stop it, I’m trying to be serious,” he complains, even as Tiamat tilts her head to one side and Liana goes with her.

“What, because they told you not to wear a t-shirt?” she says. “Don’t be daft, Harry, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal,” says Harry. “We signed a contract--”

“Wait, hang on,” interjects Louis, feeling  a bit claustrophobic. He doesn’t step away from Harry, but it’s a near thing. “What’s this about you not being allowed to wear a t-shirt?”

“I second this policy,” says Tiamat. “From this moment forward Harry Styles is not allowed to wear a t-shirt. Text the lads, let them know.”

“I think Zayn would kill us and hide the body,” Louis says. “He could do it here--just knock us off the pier and, like, be done with it.”

“True,” says Tiamat. “Which means we probably shouldn’t hang off the pier for a photo opportunity like we’d planned.”

Louis snaps his fingers. “Drat,” he says. “I was so looking forward to having my own little Titanic moment.”

Harry licks his lips. “Would the pier be Jack, then?” he says. “Or are we--”

“Well obviously you’re Jack, Harry,” Louis says. “But only in this situation--if the need ever arises for use to reenact the Titanic scene, you’re obviously Rose, since obviously I am a younger and much more attractive Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Right,  of course,” says Harry. “Forgive me?”

Louis leans up to kiss him again. “You can make it up to me later,” he says. “By wearing nothing but a t-shirt when we get back to the hotel.”

“Why a t-shirt, though?” says Liana. “Wouldn’t be nudity be better?”

“I mean a very specific t-shirt,” Louis interrupts. “With a very specific phrase on it.”

Harry’s eyes go dark and he whines a little against Louis’ lips. “But, Lou, I’m not supposed to wear it,” he says, pouting, before his eyes go wide. “I mean.”

Louis stops short, heart thumping in his chest. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.  “Oh,” he says, because _Oh._ “That t-shirt, then.” He’s not sure why he’s all surprised, since there’s plenty of pictures of Harry wearing the thing from the signing, not to mention all the fan accounts of it and the people tweeting Harry (and Louis) about it. He’d have thought that it wasn’t that big of a deal, in the grand scheme of things, however. He steps back from Harry and frowns. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Harry says quietly. “I can still wear it in private, yeah?”

Louis nods, not sure of his voice. “I guess.” He’s biting his own lip now, mindful of the fact that there’s only so much stalling the other boys can do for them. “Was this back when Paul--”

“Yeah, I, um, didn’t want to worry you.”

“Harry.” Louis interrupts him. “We’re in this together, you know. We both signed the contract.”

Harry folds his hand in front of his lap and shuffles awkwardly on the balls of his feet. “I was being a bit stupid, is all,” he says. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Lads?” Zayn pokes his head around back where they’ve been talking. He’s got glasses on, and part of Louis is jealous, because how dare he be so attractive like that. “They’re ready for us, now.”

“Right, sorry, sorry,” Louis says, before Harry can apologize. He grabs Harry by the hand and pulls him after him, coming to stand next to Zayn and smiling brightly for the photographers and people with their video cameras. “Shall we then?”

They get directed onto their mark, Harry holding onto a bit of fencing, Liam draped over a sign, Zayn sitting on another bit, and Bethania and Tiamat with their front paws up on the railing.

“Hi,” they chorus, “[We’re One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zu-4mi37yGM),” and if Louis’ voice goes a bit pitchy at the end there, no one has to notice.

He ends up dragging Harry onto at least three rides, beats everyone horribly at dodgems, does in fact go Titanic off the side of the pier, ends up in his glasses again, and gets dared to lick a horse on the merry-go-round.

That last one is particularly gross, and Louis is particularly glad that no one’s around to film it for the behind the scenes.

Throughout the photoshoot and the ensuing good time had by all (they’re five teenage boys and it’s a Brighton Pier; was anyone expecting otherwise?) Louis makes sure to stick close to Harry, almost daring the people wielding the camera to say something, and even goes so far as to hold Harry’s hand when they’re in the Ghost Train Station.

And when they get back to the hotel that night, the first thing Louis does is demand Harry give him his mobile so that he can scroll through Harry’s mentions so that he can reply to a [tweet about the t-shirt](http://bulletprooflarry.tumblr.com/post/78013515842/7-march-2011-manchester-harry-changes-into-this).

“Here,” he says, handing Harry his phone. “You tweet it--I’m no good at doing you.”

Harry takes the phone diligently and starts [typing](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/48513884163809280), but also says, dry as a bone, “I don’t know, you’re quite good at doing me, usually.”

Louis sputters at him for the next few minutes, before leaning over and resting his chin on Harry’s bare chest to watch Harry’s notifications blow up. “We’re pretending you didn’t ruin our moment, Harry,” he says, yawning. “Now go to sleep.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him, but sets the phone down on the bedside table anyway.

\--

No one yells at them for the tweet the next morning, and while Harry doesn’t go to put the t-shirt on anytime they’re about to be in public, Louis’ perfectly happy keeping that part of their relationship their own. That, and after the first time Niall walked in on Harry wearing nothing but said t-shirt and sitting on Louis’ dick, the other boys banded together and vowed that the t-shirt never sees the light of day.

“But it’s such a lovely t-shirt,” Louis protests, as they get trussed up in mic packs for the behind the scenes video they’re shooting at the bloody O2 Arena.

As if reading his mind, Zayn shakes his head at him. “We’re about to perform at the O2 and you’re worrying about your weird sex-t-shirt thing?”

Paul’s over to the side talking with the camera crew, but Nuada is definitely staring at Louis, and she definitely hears Zayn.

“Shush,” Louis snaps at him, flicking his eyes over to Tiamat, who Louis has been pretending isn’t sneaking up on Bethania. She’s belly down in the middle of the sea of blue chairs, tail twitching back and forth, and Harry can’t stop grinning at her from where he’s letting Lou fuss with his hair.

Liam’s off to the side running lyrics or something, basically being a decent person and not distracting Niall while he’s being done up with the necessary wires like Louis. Of course when Tiamat pounces on top of Beth mid conversation and Liam is the one caught shouting, he’s the one on the receiving end of Paul’s disapproving stare.

Louis just smirks at Liam and turns back to Harry, whose curls look even springier now that Lou’s done with them. Louis himself has gotten away with a beanie, so he doesn’t have to stand through the hairspray and preening today. He knows better than to tug on Harry’s curls once Lou’s finished with him, though. This doesn’t stop him.

“Oi, hey,” says Lou, batting his hands away from Harry’s head.

Harry himself won’t do it, since Harry himself can’t help but blush at the attention.

Lou’s daemon Silvanus makes a chattering noise from where he’s taken up residence on one of her hoop earrings.

Louis doesn’t know what type of spider he is, but he’s not about to ask. Tiamat probably knows, in that strange daemon way of hers, and Harry probably knows in that strange what-are-social-norms way of his, but Louis remains in the dark.

He knows enough to know that both Silvanus and Lou are resigned to his antics, by now.

He grins. “Just making sure they’re still all bouncy,” he says. “You never know what that stuff will do to hair like Harry’s.”

“It does tend to make it sort of hard,” pipes up Liana, grinning down at Louis because she knows exactly where all of their minds have gone.

Tiamat’s still on top of Bethania, but she flicks an ear towards them as well.

“You can go pretty far from her,” says Lou, frowning.

Louis doesn’t blush, but it’s a near thing. “Oh, um, yeah,” he says. “I’ve always been able to, though.”

Tiamat gets off of Bethania and slinks back over to him, awkwardly pressing up against his legs.

“It’s not like we had a terrible accident or anything.”

“No, I didn’t think so,” says Lou, but she sounds apologetic.

Louis wants to reassure her that he’s not bothered (you have to develop a thick skin when you’re eighteen years-old and unsettled), but before he can say anything else, they’re being instructed to start the video.

Louis ends up pressed up against Harry’s chest, arms wrapped back around him, while Harry talks about how they get to and from the stage before _Forever Young_.

“It’s a bit awful,” pipes up Liana, from around Harry’s neck. She’s not touching Louis, but it’s a near thing.

Harry winces as soon as she’s spoken, eyes darting over to the multitude of people keeping watch of their progress. They don’t get instructed to do the line again without her interjection, so Louis supposes it’s alright. After all, it’s not like famous people’s daemons never talk on live television or whatever.

“You’re proper famous now, Haz,” he interjects, before they get the mark that they’ve started filming again.

“Here we are at the O2 Arena,” Louis starts this time, ad-libbing a bit and pulling faces at Niall. The camera’s turned around and not facing them anyway, so it’s not like anyone can see. “We wanted to show you...”

“... How we get around,” Harry finishes, hands coming up to grip at Louis’ shoulders.

“Yeah,” Louis says, as the camera swings around to show them. He’s not sure what they’re shooting for in terms of look--maybe some sort of webcam type thing, but it’s a bit shaky and not well done but it works for them.

Only when he glances off screen to his right, he finds disapproving looks from everyone important.

He lets go of Harry abruptly, stepping to his side, and lifting his head.

“Wankers,” mutters Tiamat, barely audible as Harry and Louis talk about secret doors.

Louis grits his teeth and gets through the rest of the video. It’s a bit harder to muster up his usual charm, but then Liam tells the story of the woman pulling open his shirt, and it’s not hard to interject with his own anecdotes about lost change.

“Are you alright, Lou?” says Harry, when they’ve finished and have been sent on their way before the night’s show.

“I’m fine,” Louis says, through his teeth. He laces their fingers together on their way out. “I’m not supposed to hang all over you, I suppose.”

Harry blinks. “I don’t mind,” he says.

Louis feels his lips twitch despite himself. “Yeah, I know you don’t,” he says.

“In fact it’s nice,” says Liana. “I do wish I could ride around _your_ neck, though.” She shoots Harry a quick look. “You don’t move around like you’re two seconds from falling.”

Louis snorts. “It’s because of Haz’s legs,” he says. “They’re all gangly and baby deer-like.”

“Maybe a giraffe?” adds Tiamat. “That accounts for the height.”

“I’m not all that tall,” interrupts Harry. “I’m normal sized.”

Louis reaches out and pinches him in the side. “Are you saying I’m not normal sized?” he says, casting his eyes around for the other lads. “Oi, Zayn, do you think I’m normal sized?”

Zayn blinks back at him for a bit. “I wouldn’t know, Louis,” he says slowly. “As I’ve never seen you with your kit off.”

Louis stares at him for a long moment. “That is a complete and utter lie,” he says. “First of all.”

“Has anyone on this tour _not_ seen Tommo with his kit off?” says Niall, under his breath.

When Harry glares at him, he shrugs.

“I’m just saying.”

Louis ignores the both of them. “Second of all, I didn’t mean in the pants department. I mean in general.”

There’s another beat.

“No, you’re tiny,” says Zayn, and then he turns around and starts walking.

Louis watches him go with his mouth open, before he turns back to Harry and Liana. “The nerve of him,” he says.

“You’re not tiny in the pants department, at least?” says Harry, giggling. “So there’s that?”

Louis goes to tell him that while that is true, it doesn’t make up for the fact that Harry implied he was short, but before he can, Liana launches herself at him and lands on his head.

It’s a testament to how much sex he and Harry have been having that neither of them get overwhelmed with the desire to fuck on the next horizontal surface they see, which is good, since it would be the stage at the O2 Arena.

“You are short,” says Harry’s daemon. “The ground is so close--I regret this decision--Harry, take me back.”

“Whoa there, I will drop you,” Louis tells her, stepping away from Harry so that Liana can’t jump back over. “Now, what were you saying about my height?”

“Nothing.” Liana gets her claws into Louis’ scalp, tiny pinpricks up and down the top of his head. “You’re the perfect size.”

From the side, Harry laughs at the both of them, and rests a hand on top of Tiamat’s head when she comes close enough.

Liana rides out of the main stage on Louis head, and Louis meets the eyes of everyone on the PR team without blinking.

He tweets Harry ‘[have a good show tonight baby cakes ! :)](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/49440686226944000)’ before the London show the next night, because he can.

It’s icing on the cake that two days later, Louis’ [carrot costume debacle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rK60GlPEuU) earns seven hundred pounds for charity.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote. (And what a lot it was, wow.) Theoretically this should be on hiatus until the [Harry Louis Summer Fix Exchange](http://hlsummerfest.tumblr.com/post/82019185420/hi-friends-as-summer-draws-near-and-school-winds) is done, since I'm participating in that, but I know myself too well, so see you Wednesday, hopefully!
> 
> Come say [hi](http://www.zimriya.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


	4. April 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So technically I’ve got finals and the fic exchange, so May might be a bit more late than this one was, BUT. Here it is! With a somewhat half-assed edit [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/85243419825/i-need-you-here-with-me-now-april-2011). 
> 
> Betaed by Marta and Vic as always, and also the lovely Ryssa. Britpicked by [Jess](http://thisismyoneluckyprize.tumblr.com/), who also had a look to make sure I wasn’t glaringly awful at any point. All of them are amazing. All the mistakes are my own.
> 
> Special shoutout to [bulletproofhalo](http://bulletproofhalo.tumblr.com/) whose [April 2011 timeline](http://bulletproofhalo.tumblr.com/post/68951595264/timeline-april-2011) was invaluable. 
> 
> HOW IS EVERYONE ENJOYING THIS TOUR? Have we recovered from Louis’ fringe, yet?

**April 2011**

\--

Liana wakes Louis up on April Fools’ by leaping atop his chest and slapping him in the face with her tail. He supposes it’s better than [that time Harry accidentally hit him round the face with his dick](http://www.sugarscape.com/main-topics/homepage/662922/louis-tomlinson-harry-styles-wrapped-his-penis-round-my-face) , but the added bonus of fur in his mouth really isn’t helping matters. To be fair, Louis’d already been somewhat awake, given that it was April Fools’ and he had spent the months before convincing Zayn that planes did loop-de-loops and drawing shampoo-dicks on Liam’s face, but _still_. Waking up to a mouthful of fur and Harry’s daemon on his chest chattering at him was not quite what Louis’d expected when he went to sleep that night. He also can’t quite be arsed to determine where Harryhimself is.

“Harry Styles is the most embarrassing member of this band,” says Liana, once Louis has finished spitting out her tail. “Full stop.”

Tiamat blinks at her a few times. “Okay, but Liam’s hair looks like Justin Bieber’s,” she says slowly. “Just putting that out there.”

Louis very gently smacks her in the shoulder.

On his chest, Liana breaks out into rather breathless giggles; she’s adorable. “I mean it’s true,” she says. “But still. Check Twitter.”

Louis goes to grab his phone at the same time Harry makes his presence known. Louis can’t see much of him, seeing as he appears to be entirely wrapped up in a blanket, but he’d wager a guess that he’s not wearing anything else. Also probably blushing, given the state of his voice.

“Aeliana,” he whines, using Liana’s full name.

She doesn’t so much as blink. “Check Twitter,” she repeats.

Louis would much rather find out for certain if Harry is, in fact, naked as the day he was born, but when Liana sets her claws into his bare chest, he enters his passcode and clicks the app.

“‘[That better be a joke...Haha](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/53736715185164288) ’,” Louis reads tonelessly, lowering the phone and staring at Liana. “How embarrassing?” Louis has no idea what he’s supposed to find funny.

Harry very clearly does, since he finally gets the blanket off of his face and continues complaining. “ _Liana_!” And, yes, he is naked. Which. Much more interesting, Louis has to say.

“No, it’s a reply. Check the original tweet,” Liana says, before he can set the phone down next to her on his chest.

Louis sighs, and does so.

And then. Well. ‘ _@Harry_Styles bad News_ ,’ reads the original tweet. ‘ _@Louis_Tomlinson is breaking up with you :’( x._ ’

Louis lowers the phone and _leers_ at Harry. “Why, Hazza,” he purrs. “What have I told you about believing everything they say on the internet?”

Harry blinks at him, cheeks a lovely pink, unabashed in his nakedness. He seems a little affected by how Louis is raking his eyes up and down his torso, but Louis can’t really blame him, seeing as Louis has mastered the art of undressing Harry with his eyes, even when Harry is himself undressed. “Well, technically you never told me anything?” Harry squeaks out, voice cracking when Tiamat gets up and very gently nudges him towards the bed.

Louis just gets up on his elbows and goes to set his phone somewhere off to the side, at which point he notices the time.

“Hang on, it’s six in the morning,” he says.

Harry blinks, mouth falling shut. “Erm, yes?”

Louis lifts his head a bit more and narrows his eyes at him, taking in the fact that the blanket from earlier, while on the floor at present, is fluffy and warm and Harry’s go-to choice for comfort when he’s feeling less than happy. Also, there’s a tinge of red to his eyes. “Why were you on Twitter at six in the morning?”

Harry sighs. “Louis.”

Louis throws off the covers with no regard for decency. “Were you looking at your mentions and crying again, Haz?” he says. Before Harry can respond, he drags the younger boy down onto the bed with him. And, well. Harry isn’t the only one who’s taken to sleeping naked.

“Maybe,” says Harry. “Will you fuck me if I was?”

Louis can’t really help but pet at his hips a few times, because the skin there is just so lovely and warm. “Hmm?” he says, biting his bottom lip and watching Harry’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he watches him. “I mean, no, Haz, we’re having a very important conversation.”

Harry sticks a leg between Louis’ and rubs up against his cock. “Your hands are on my arse,” he says.

Louis has to work very hard to not rock back down against Harry’s thigh. “They are not,” he says. They most certainly are.

Harry just looks down at where Louis’ been kneading at the skin of his bum for most of the conversation.

“They kind of certainly are,” says Tiamat, from the floor. “Just putting that out there.”

Liana giggles at her, as always.

Louis throws his phone at Harry.

“Lou.” Harry’s eyes are wild. “You’ll break it.”

Louis rocks his hips forward a bit because he can’t help himself. “I’ll buy a new one,” he says. “Now tell me why you were on Twitter at six AM?”

“Erm, well, my mum called?” Harry sounds incredibly distracted by the movement of Louis’ hips.

“At six in the morning?” He lets go of Harry’s arse and drags his palms up the small of his back, leaving trails of gooseflesh. “Try again.”

Harry makes a frustrated noise and finally moves, gripping Louis by the hips and pinning him to the bed.

Louis feels the breath leave his lungs in a great gust of air, heart suddenly pounding in his ears. He swallows.

“Fine, I called my mum,” Harry mutters.

Louis mentally punches the air. Then he tests the grip Harry has on his waist, shifting against the sheets. “Why?”

Harry sighs, before collapsing bonelessly against Louis on the bed. “You were right,” he says, sighing. “I was reading twitter. But not crying.”

“He was totally crying,” pipes up Liana. “In fact, I probably would have woken you up even if he wasn’t being a lovesick little shit about you for the entire world to see.”

Harry makes an annoyed noise. “Someone’s going to have a right fit about that,” he mumbles into Louis’ left nipple.

Louis tries to be unaffected by that.  “I see,” he says of Liana’s interjection, before Harry’s words catch up with him. “Hang on, what?”

“Like, I’m not supposed to be too obvious, or whatever.” Harry’s definitely mumbling now, either because he’s smooshed into Louis’ chest, or because he really doesn’t want to have this conversation, and Louis reaches up to pet a hand through his curls.

“Haz, come on,” he says. “What’re they going to do--delete your tweets?”

Harry huffs out a breath, but keeps silent. Louis knows he’s deflecting--it hasn’t escaped his notice that they’re pointedly not addressing any of Harry’s unfortunate tendencies to take criticism harshly and seek it out--but he can’t help but grab onto whatever part of Harry he can and just hold. “The entire internet’s probably already got it saved or whatever.” So he’s buying into the deflection. Sue him. Harry obviously doesn’t want to get into it right now, and Louis’ll address it later.

“Really overestimating our fame, here, Lou,” says Tiamat from the floor.

Louis considers flipping her off. “You know instead of being unhelpful, the two of you could come up here and help me cuddle Haz,” he says instead.

“I’m going to sit on you,” his daemon informs him, probably rolling her eyes. She doesn’t, though, and settles next to them on the bed with little comment. Liana ends up between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“But, like, they’re our Twitter accounts--”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Lou,” Harry says finally. “Please.”

Louis swallows the rest of his sentence and holds him harder. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

Tiamat is silent, but Louis doesn’t miss the way she leans harder into Harry’s side. 

The tension in Harry’s shoulders ease out with every second they go pressed together in a heap. Louis would like nothing more than to curl around him like some sort of overprotective ball.

“I think it’s cute, Harry,” Louis says finally, breaking the silence. “Although I’m sorry to say that particular rumor is correct.”

Harry turns his head so that he can look at Louis with one eye. “What rumor?”

Louis leans down and pecks him on the lips. “I’m breaking up with you,” he says. “Leaving you for Payno--we’re the next greatest bromance, you see.”

Harry grumbles into his pectorals.

“What was that?” Louis tugs on Harry’s hair, a bit harder than intended. “Can’t hear you--speak up, Harold.”

Harry grabs him by the wrists and holds him down, nearly unsettling Liana and elbowing Tiamat in what Louis believes is her snout in the process. “I said,” says Harry. “You’re an idiot.” He grinds his hips down in sinful circles for most of the ensuing silence, brutal in his movements and keeping Louis immobile against the bed.

Louis blinks up at him, brain gone all hazy. “Is it ‘cause I pulled your hair?” he says. “Because if it gets me this reaction, I’m going to do it much more often.”

Harry just presses their cocks together harder.

Louis whines in the back of his throat, heart galloping in his chest.

“We should probably have been both been rabbits,” says Tiamat, sounding put off, and a bit nasal. So it was her nose, then. She sounds unfairly put together; Louis hates her.

“Wah?” Liana, by contrast, seems to be having trouble with words.

“Rabbits?” says Tiamat.

Louis really, _really_ hates her.

“‘Cause like, all those two want to do is fuc--Hey!”

Her voice breaks in the middle, the panic Louis is usually so good at keeping hidden flaring to the surface as Harry lets go of his wrists and gets to his feet.

“I think I’m going to have a shower,” he decides, scratching idly at his hip, ignoring his rather obvious erection, and padding over to the en suite toilet and closing the door behind him. After a moment, he opens the door, to let Liana slip inside. “Alone.”

Louis gapes after him. _What_?

“What just happened?” says Tiamat.

Louis continues staring at the door with his mouth open.

“I vote you just wank off,” Tiamat starts to say, when Harry opens the door again.

He pokes his head out of the door, grinning so hard his cheeks look like they hurt. “April Fools’,” he says, and Louis doesn’t even have to exchange more than a quick glance with Tiamat before the two of them are up off the bed and pouncing, tackling the still giggling Harry into the loo.

“You bastard,” Louis crows at him, and then he kisses Harry, because he can’t quite help it, and doesn’t stop kissing him for a while. Outside the shower, Tiamat and Liana curl up in a ball on the rug.

“Rabbits,” says Tiamat.

Louis ignores her. “Bastard,” he tells Harry again, stepping towards the tub.

“You love me,” says Harry, smug, and while it’s true, Louis can’t quite help but chase after him into the shower, hissing as the water hits his shoulders and wets his fringe.

“Yes,” he tells Harry, dragging him in close and making him feel every single inch of skin. “But I’m also very angry at you.”

Harry looks at him like he’s not sure he’s real. “Oh?” He swallows. “Are you going to punish me, then?”

Louis _really_ loves him. But at the moment, he’d really also like to fuck him. “No,” he says, and then when Harry’s face falls, “April Fools’.”

Harry ends up blowing him instead, but Louis’ not picky. Either way, it’s a wonderful way to start off the month.

\--

“I cannot wait to go home,” says Niall, later that afternoon, while they’re all crammed into his and Zayn’s hotel room waiting for the go-ahead to make their way to the venue for the matinee.

Louis stares at him. “Why’s that, Ni?” he says.

“Not ‘cause I don’t love you loads, ‘cause I do,” Niall very quickly adds. “But, like, my ears.”

Harry joins Louis over on one of the chairs and stares at Niall as well. “Your ears?”

“I’m honestly not sure who I’m more jealous of, at this point,” Niall continues, still not elaborating. “Like, on the one hand I feel like I should say Harry, but Tommo.” He pauses.

Everyone else in the room seems to catch on at that, and Louis is filled with the sudden urge to brain Niall with a chair. Or like, quote _What Makes You Beautiful_ at him, or something.

“Definitely Tommo,” says Zayn. “I’ve not got the image of Harry’s bits out of my mind yet, and I’ve been trying to repress it pretty much since the first day I saw it.”

“Hey,” says Harry, reflexively.

“Shh, that was a compliment,” says Liana. “Right?”

Fi makes a depressed noise and noses into Zayn’s hair. “Why’re you all so hung up on each other’s dicks?” she says.

“ _Oh_ ,” says Liam.

So not everyone else in the room, then. Damnit. And Louis’ so been looking forward to singing at them.

“Oh.” Liam doesn’t sound pleased anymore. “Yeah, like, not to tell you how to live your lives, but the walls are thin?”

Louis turns his attention to him and stares at him for a long moment.

Meanwhile Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Wait, are we talking about--”

“You’re loud,” says Niall, taking pity on all of them. “And I love you, but I draw the line at sex noises.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything sooner, then?” mutters Eirian, but Louis gets the idea she means the words for Niall only.

Harry just looks smug. “He is, isn’t he?” he says.

Louis nods along with him, because hell knows he’s never been one to be shy. But then, what? “Hang on, what do you mean ‘he’?” he says, voice a bit higher than he’d wanted. “You are just as loud.”

Liam buries his face in his hands, and then the whole hand-face combination in Bethania’s fur.

“Yeah, but you get mouthy,” says Harry, still grinning. He really is shameless. “I’m just… happy.”

“I’ll say,” says Tiamat dryly.

“I do not get mouthy,” says Louis. “Give me one example of when I was mouthy--”

“Last night.” Harry doesn’t even let him finish. “You threatened to stick soap in my eye if I didn’t stop teasing--”

“I’m not the one who was using only two fingers,” Louis snaps, before he can finish.

Zayn makes a similarly broken noise, and smacks Niall in the arm. “This is all your fault,” he tells him.

Niall just looks back at him, unimpressed. “Tommo is loud,” he says, over Louis’ sputtering. “And I rather like sleeping.”

“Okay, fair point,” says Zayn. “But I’d much rather hear their weird sex noises then hear them talk about their weird sex.”

“Louis and I don’t have weird sex,” says Harry, sounding legitimately concerned. Louis would hug him, if he wasn’t busy glaring daggers at Zayn and Niall.

“I hate you all,” says the lump that is Liam and Bethania.

Louis glares daggers at the lump as well.

“You’ll thank me later, Payno,” says Niall, still sounding unconcerned. “When you’re back home and lying in bed and everything is blessedly quiet and not filled with Louis having an orgasm, you shall thank me.”

Liam groans again. “Hate you,” he says.

Niall reaches out to pat him on the back. “There, there,” he says. “Anyone else hungry?”

“Yeah, well, you can all just fuck off,” Louis tells the room at large, before getting to his feet and stomping towards the door. “Harry and I are going to get our own house anyway, and then we can fuck as loudly as we want.” He pulls the door to the hotel room, but keeps looking back over his shoulder. “In all of the rooms. Which we will own, as it will be our flat. So there.” He turns forward.

Standing in the doorway is Paul, looking incredibly pained, and probably here to tell them that the car is ready for them.

Louis shuts the door. “Oh my God,” he says.

He’s pretty sure everyone in the room is laughing at him, daemons included, except for Harry, who just sounds awestruck. “When we buy a flat?” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “Yeah,” he says, stretching out the syllables. “No, Haz, I’ve just been making secret plans to buy a flat with you as some sort of elaborate April Fools’ joke that I’ve been planning since last year.” He snorts. “Of course I’m serious, _God_.”

“Told you so,” mutters Liana, at the same time Louis has a thought.

He rubs at his arm a few times. “Unless you don’t want to move in with me,” he says, to the floor, mostly. “In which case this is suddenly very awkward.”

Liam is the one who responds. “I would just like to point out this entire conversation has been awkward--mostly the part where you started talking about fingering,” he says, not lifting his head. “But by all means, carry on.”

Louis stares at him for a few moments.

Zayn gets up to open the door for Paul.

“Fingering,” Louis says, as he does so.

Paul heaves out another long sigh. “Car’s ready,” he says, and when Louis opens his mouth, he just points at him. “Don’t you start anything.”

Louis raises both of his hands in the air and mimes zipping his lips. “I don’t know why he’s so mean to me,” he tells Niall, who shakes his head and follows Paul out of the room. “It’s like he doesn’t even know me.”

Paul flips him off.

Louis is hurt. He doesn’t get to address it, though, because Zayn drags Liam past him before he can. Also, Harry makes a noise like he’s choking on air and comes over to press himself to Louis’ side, hand slipping into his back pocket. “Of course I want to move in with you,” he tells him. “Don’t be daft.”

Louis really would like to say he doesn’t grin like an idiot, but he’d be lying, so he just leans into Harry and closes the hotel room behind them. “Yeah?” he says. “You want to grow old with me, Haz?”

“Always,” says Harry.

\--

“But actually, why were you listening to us have sex?” Louis asks them all loudly, after they’ve been driving in silence for a bit.

Niall throws his shoe at him.

\--

Several days later and Louis is in the middle of hissing into his phone at his mum about living arrangements, when Zayn wanders into his room and sits down next to him, sighing.

“--and I had to find out from Anne herself that you’re moving in together,” his mum is saying, but Louis has more pressing issues, like Zayn Malik, who has yet to stop sighing and is now staring at Louis soulfully. “And I know it was a thing we talked about, since we’ve been picking things of yours to send to stay with Anne, but--”

“Yeah, yeah, _Mum_?” Louis says, interrupting her before she can keep going. “I’ve got to go, but I love you, yeah?”

“Louis--”

“And I’ll see you in a few days,” Louis continues, before clicking end call. He stares at Zayn. “You okay?”

Zayn sighs again. “Hi, Lou,” he says. Fi climbs up on top of his head and sighs soulfully as well.

Louis blinks rapidly at her, because nothing about the picture they paint is anything other than amusing. He’s relatively certain that if he laughs, Zayn is going to kick him in the balls and leave him crying on the floor. Zayn Malik may seem quiet and unassuming, but Louis knows firsthand just how deadly he can be. “Hi,” he says hesitantly. “You called?”

Instead of laughing, or correcting him, or any of his usual Zayn-like responses, Zayn just sighs again.

Louis wonders if he should be worried. “Mate,” he says. “You alright?”

Zayn sighs once more, before dropping his head back against the sofa. Fi somehow manages to stay on his head.

“We’ve got to see if Li can do that,” whispers Tiamat.

Louis turns to grin at her, but Zayn responds before he can.

“How did you know you were in love with Harry?” he asks, instead of answering Louis’ question.

Louis nearly swallows his tongue and drops his phone. “How’d you mean?” he says finally, throat very dry. His voice sounds like it’s been through a cheese grater, which does not bode very well for their continued success on the X-Factor Live Tour. Not that Louis’ been reading the articles. Or like, googling himself to see what people thought of his carrot costume.

Zayn turns his head to look at him. On his head, Fi stays immobile, which is more than a little creepy. “I mean, assuming you’ve already gotten around to saying ‘I love yous’.”

Louis frowns. “Is this about us being too loud?” he tries.

Zayn snorts. “No, Lou,” he says. “But, like, love?”

Louis turns away from him to look down at his phone. It’s not broken, but Tiamat goes to inspect it more closely anyway. “What about it?”

“How’d you know?” Zayn doesn’t sound teasing, like Niall would, or patronizing, like Liam would (Louis’ loves Liam like the younger brother he never knew he wanted, but he’s going to be holding his post X-Factor lecture about ‘the dangers of being LouisandHarry’ over his head for _ages_ ).

Mostly, Zayn just sounds honest.

“I dunno. I just... _do_.” Louis definitely knows. Or rather, Louis knows what he feels for Harry’s isn’t some fleeting thing, at the very least. “Why?” He wonders if he should mention Rebecca.

Zayn shrugs. “No reason.”

Probably not, then. Louis continues to stare hard at his phone on the floor.

To his left, Zayn keeps breathing deeply and not speaking. It’s a little unnerving, and Louis feels tension settle into his shoulders.

“Right, well,” he says. “Did you need me for something else?”

Zayn makes a humming noise. “No,” he says. “Well.” When Louis looks at him, his lips are twitching. “Liam and Niall are straightening Harry’s hair.”

Louis pauses. “They’re what?”

“I guess it’s more Liam than anyone else,” Zayn decides. “Since it was his idea--Lou left a straighter hanging around and you know.” Zayn shrugs. “They might’ve been bored?”

Louis’ pretty sure that means that Zayn totally instigated the entire thing.

“Which led to Niall nearly braining himself on a table falling over laughing, which led to Harry demanding to see a mirror, which led to Liam giving in and giggling, which led to Harry saying at least you’d still love him,” Zayn continues, as if they both don’t know all of it’s his fault. “So, like, not entirely unprompted.”

Louis nods. “Right,” he says. “Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?”

Zayn blinks innocently at him. “What, the hair straightening thing?” he says. “He’s probably still got it done if you want to see--”

Louis’ up and off the sofa before Zayn’s finished speaking, hand reaching out to take his phone from Tiamat. “Where are they?” he asks Zayn, not looking at him. He wonders if he need shoes. “Li’s room?” Liam’s got the single again, somehow, which means Louis really should take advantage of it still technically being April and draw some more shampoo genitalia on him. “You think tits, maybe?” he asks Tiamat.

“Harry wouldn’t approve,” says his daemon, but she’s definitely amused.

Louis smirks at her.

“Yeah.” Zayn answers his question with a yawn. “In the loo--”

“Liam James Payne!” Louis toes on his toms and shoves open the hotel door. “What’s this I hear about you ruining my beloved’s equally beloved curls?”

Zayn follows him out of the room giggling. “Liam James Payne?” he says. “You sound like my mum, Tommo.”

Louis shoots him a grin. “Shut up,” he says. “Your mum wishes she had an arse like mine.”

Tiamat goes to nip him across the heels and Fi looks about two seconds from disregarding the taboo and leaping at him.

They reach Liam’s door, which swings open to reveal an equally giggly Harry Styles, hair floating around his head and making him look like some sort of drowned cat.

Liana is draped around his shoulders, snickering quietly into the bits of his hair around her face.

“Louis.” Harry flashes his dimples at him. “You still love me, yeah?”

Louis is blind-sided? by just how much he really does, but he’s not about to say _that_ aloud. Not after his little heart-to-heart with Zayn, seeing as the other boy is standing behind him, smirking. “I dunno, H,” he says. “You look rather like a baby cat.”

“I’m not a cat,” says Harry. “I’m an otter.” His words are slurring wonderfully. Louis would think he was drunk, if it wasn’t for the fact they’ve got a show later that night.

Louis reaches out to touch Harry’s hair. “I like the curls better,” he decides, tugging on a strand. “But I guess you’ll do.”

Harry shakes his head at him, and leans into his touch. “Thanks,” he says dryly. “Good to know.”

Louis gives his hair a quick yank in response, making Harry’s mouth fall slightly open and his pupils dilate. Oops. He lets go of the hair like he’s been burned, stepping around Harry and pushing into the room. “Payno?” he snaps. “Where’re you hiding?”

Liam picks his head up from where he’s slouched across the bed, using Niall as a pillow and typing on his phone. When he sees Louis, he drops it onto the bed and gulps. “Now, Lou,” he says. “Before you do anything drastic--”

“Wrong answer,” Louis tells him blithely, before tackling him with a battle cry.

Niall rolls smoothly out of the way of the pile of boys (Harry’d joined in when Liam’d accidentally elbowed Louis in the stomach and Zayn’d joined in when Louis nearly took Liam’s eye out) and picks up Liam’s phone. “[Sent](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/55297541096472577),” he says sweetly, before setting it back on the bed.

\--

It doesn’t occur to Louis till three minutes before show time that the reason their parents are coming to see them in Cardiff is because it’s the last show of the Tour, at which point most of their families are already there and Louis is being handed a microphone and rushed under the stage with the rest of the lads. He’s just finished being hugged by quite a lot of people, and so he’s already more than a little broken up about the fact that it’s their last performance, when he realizes that this is the first time his mum will be meeting Harry as definitely his boyfriend. Like, post-sex, post-awkward condom discussion, etc.

“H?” he hisses into the darkness. “Do you have a minute?”

There’s a pause.

Louis’ eyes adjust to the darkness quicker than the rest of the boys, because he’s got Tiamat on his side, and she’s a bloody cat. Instead of Harry blinking back at him, he finds Zayn, and Zayn is just smirking.

“No,” he says. “Harry is obviously very busy waiting for our song to start. He cannot talk to you at all while waiting and doing nothing else of importance.”

Louis goes to punch him in the stomach. “Wanker,” he mutters.

Meanwhile, Harry just looks amused. “Yeah, Lou?” He’s got a different kind of energy in him tonight, almost manic, but more magnetic than ever, curls falling across his forehead in a messy fringe. The gray blazer has never looked better on him. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“You have three minutes,” Liam hisses, but he shuffles Niall and Zayn away from them awkwardly in the small space anyway. “And be quiet.”

Louis makes a note to buy him something especially nice for his birthday, as opposed to just getting him smashed in honor of him being legal.

Harry is looking at him curiously. “Lou?”

“You’ve told your mum about us, right?” he says in a rush. “Explicitly, I mean?”

Harry pauses. “Well, not explicitly,” he says slowly. “Since she’s my mum.”

Liana mumbles something about wanking and interruptions and Louis feels a moment of solidarity with her. “No, I don’t mean _explicitly_ explicitly,” he says. “But she knows we’re definitely together?”

Harry looks confused. “Erm, yeah?” he says. “Like, you’ve been over to mine and my birthday--”

Louis waves a hand, but before he can continue, Liam shoots him a look. “Right,” he says. “Right, okay. I haven’t really explained the whole situation to _my_ mum, but.” He tightens the grip he has in the fur at the back of Tiamat’s neck and his daemon hisses. “Um, good.”

Harry looks at him a little oddly, but gets into position for _Forever Young_ anyway.

Just before they’re due to rise up, Louis reaches out to grab Harry by the arm. “Wait,” he hisses.

“Louis.” Liam looks about this close to smacking him.

Louis ignores him in favor of looking Harry directly in the eye. “We’re going to smash it,” he tells Harry.

Harry continues looking at him oddly, head tilted to the side, so Louis leans forward and kisses him.

He pulls back before they rise up out onto the stage, because he’s not actually an idiot, but Harry still ends up smiling so hard at him it looks painful. Not to mention that he’s singing, but the way his eyes keep twinkling at Louis the entire time is just unfair.

Louis’d been trying to have a very serious conversation about how they were going to address their relationship with their parents--beyond ‘I like Harry and sometimes we fuck’--he shouldn’t feel like all the air is gone out of the venue.

[But Harry keeps twinkling at him](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsaC4f30A-M&t=29s), and really, what is Louis even supposed to do with that?

He smiles back, hopes he doesn’t look as enamored as he feels, and sings.

And then, like, [gets on his back and bends one leg seductively ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsaC4f30A-M&t=36s)while smoldering up at Harry because why the hell not.

\--

After they’ve gotten off stage for the final time in order to change for _Heroes_ , Niall is the first person to speak.

“Haz,” he says, voice a little croaky. So maybe Louis isn’t the only one a bit broken up about the tour ending. “You know I love you. But that was just sad, mate.”

“I thought it was sweet,” says Eirian. “Very Romeo and Juliet.”

Louis points at Zayn. “Ha,” he says. “And you mocked me for my little performance.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at him. “Romeo and Juliet did not feature zombies, Lou,” he says.

Louis would tackle him, but he’d much rather hassle Niall for teasing Harry.

“I would like to point out I was ill and had no part in this,” says Harry, raising both his hands.

Louis takes it back. “You were saying, Niall?” he says.

“Embarrassing,” says Niall. “Actual heart eyes, you’ve got there.”

Harry shakes his head at him, before draping an arm around his shoulders. “You’re just jealous,” he says. “‘Cause I’m Lou’s favorite.”

“This is true.” It’s possible Louis is on autopilot. “He is my favorite. Sorry.”

Harry looks smug.

Niall just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he says. “It’s still really embarrassing.”

“Someone’s gonna put it on YouTube,” adds Zayn. “Do you want to download it, or should I?”

“For their wedding, yeah?” adds Liam, the bastard. “I can if you want.”

Louis is so not okay with his newfound confidence. “Wedding?” he says.

Harry and Niall crane their heads around to stare at him. “Are you not marrying Harry?” Niall asks. “Because I have video diary footage that would say otherwise, and it’s equally if not more embarrassing than Mr. Heart Eyes over here.” He jabs a fingers in Harry’s general direction.

Harry snaps playfully at his fingers. “Jealous,” he says again, purring when Niall reaches out to pet him.

Louis narrows his eyes. “H,” he snaps. “Silver or Gold?”

“Gold,” says Tiamat.

Louis ignores her. “H.”

Harry turns to look at him. “Hmmm?”

“For rings.” If there was ever a time to discover secret powers that would allow him to murder Niall with his eyes, now would be the time. Louis could totally be Cyclops--lack of younger brother or tragic childhood aside.

Harry’s lips quirk. “Whichever,” he says. “As long as it’s yours.”

And Louis is definitely the one with the heart-eyes now, but, really, can anyone blame him?

Niall looks between the two of them for a moment. “Mmm,” he says, before whipping out his phone and snapping a quick photo. “Wait, no, hang on.” He does something to the screen. “For comparison,” he tells Zayn. “I’m just looking out for you.”

Zayn shoots an imaginary gun at him, nodding. “Good plan, Nialler,” he says. “Get them both in the frame, yeah?” Fi chitters at Eirian, who makes an odd bleating noise.

Niall doesn’t look embarrassed at her, like he had the first few times. Of course, he lets out a belch to rival her a few seconds later, so there is that.

Liam and Bethania just sigh.

“Do you want me to get on my knees and do it proper?” Harry asks them dryly, like an idiot. Louis is in love with an idiot.

“Nah, that’s a bit much, innit?” Liam asks. “Like, video of the proposal at the wedding?” He rolls his shoulders out so that they crack. “Kind of tacky, that.”

“Sweet, though,” points out Bethania.

Louis pauses. “Hey, this isn’t the actual proposal,” he says. “There will be bloody doves and shit for the actual proposal. Also a real life ring, as opposed to this metaphorical gold--?” He looks at Harry, who shrugs. “--or silver ring.”

“Well, I should hope not actual shit,” says Liana. She goes over on Harry’s shoulder so that she’s staring at Louis upside-down. “Might ruin the mood.”

Tiamat snorts at her. “For that, I vote we eat her,” she says. “For the reception.”

 “You’d probably have to sever our link or summat,” Harry puts in. “Otherwise I’d just--you know.” He mimes cutting a throat. “Disappear in a shower of gold dust.”

Louis’ heart does an uncomfortable little jump. “You’d make very pretty gold dust,” he points out, trying not to think too hard about the multitude of connotations attached to Harry’s point. There haven’t been reports of people severing humans from their daemons in decades.

“Hey.” Liam is the one who speaks, looking concerned. “That’s illegal.”

“Well, so’s gay marriage,” points out Zayn, rolling his eyes to show just how much he approves of that particular lawmaking choice, but he reaches out to rub at the back of Liam’s neck anyway.

Louis ignores the both of them. “Doves,” he tells Harry instead. “And a band.”

Niall’s mouth opens.

“This band,” Louis continues. “We’ll do _What Makes You Beautiful_ and everything.”

Someone hushes them, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, the song’ll leak from that,” he says.

Zayn stops petting Liam to cuff him on the back of the head. “Shut up, Tommo,” he says. “We are under contract.”

He’s joking, but Louis can’t quite help let the smile slip off his face a bit. “Yeah,” he says, as they reach the dressing room and go about pulling off shirts. “I know.”

Zayn looks a bit apologetic, but they really don’t have enough time to think about it, because they’ve got to be rushed back through hair and make up a bit (it’s the last show; got to look dashing) and put into position for the big reveal.

Louis ends up standing awkwardly next to Harry in a crisp white t-shirt rocking back on the balls of his feet waiting for their cue to get on stage. Tiamat is warm presence at his side. He goes to start towards his side of the stage, but before he can, Harry stops him with a hand on his right arm.

“Hey.” Louis looks down at their wrists. “You okay?”

Louis gives him a smile. “Yeah, fine,” he says quietly, not wanting to be heard. Never mind that that’s really not possible, given how loudly the fans are screaming.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Harry whispers.

Louis tilts his head at him. “Really?”

“Not about the singing,” Harry continues. “No more than usually, I mean, since we’ve done it before and the crowd’s been great.”

Louis nods.

“But, it’s like, final.”

Louis resists the urge to make a joke about Harry’s X-Factor final nerves. “Right,” he says.

Harry shakes his hair out, running his fingers through the curls and then rearranging them across his forehead. “We might not ever do it again, is what I mean,” he says. “Like, ever.”

Louis reaches up and grabs Harry’s hand atop his wrist. “Yeah,” he says. “Doesn’t matter, though.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “But what if I never see you again?”

Louis trails his fingers down Harry’s left arm to his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Well, we’re practically married, so...” He says trailing off, pecking Harry on the cheek (even as Liam narrows his eyes at him from where he’s already on his mark) and skips off to get into position.

By the time they’ve gotten all the way through _Heroes_ and are caught up in the mass of people milling on the stage, Louis’ heart is pounding and his ears are roaring with blood.

It’s over.

The Tour is over.

Louis’ finished his first cross country tour with four of his best friends and the boy he’s pretty sure he’s going to marry, and, really, Louis can’t help himself.

His eyes meet Harry’s next to him on the stage, shining brightly with maybe tears. Harry smiles at him, head tilting curiously, and [Louis is pulling him close to him before he can stop](http://bulletproofhalo.tumblr.com/post/66187160600). He doesn’t think, just grabs hold of Harry’s back and presses his thumbs into the line of his spine, suddenly feeling like crying and not quite knowing why. One of his hands gets stuck in Liana’s fur in the process before she can skitter down Harry’s back, but he doesn’t bloody well care, because they’ve just finished their very first tour and One Direction might be bloody over and Louis is in love with him. He’s in love with Harry Styles, and he’s going to bloody well hug him if he bloody well wants.

Harry hugs him back just as tightly, breath stuttering in Louis’ ear, and fingers petting at the back of his shirt. “Great show,” he says hoarsely. “You smashed it.”

Louis buries his nose in Harry’s hair and hangs on. “You too,” he tells Harry. “You too.”

\--

Harry vanishes into the onslaught that is their parents before Louis can so much as blink, getting wrapped up in a hug from both their mums before they’ve even so much as finished grabbing their things back stage. Louis himself ends up hanging back, heart going staccato fast in his chest, watching.

“Oh God.” Tiamat appears to be on the same page. “There were cameras.”

Louis elbows her in the nose. “Shut up,” he snaps. “Shut up, and smile.”

Anne gives him a bright smile over the top of Harry’s head, and Louis grins back, heart in his throat. Louis’ mum is grinning at him in a way that makes him worry for a quick second that she’s going to snap and bring out the baby photos she no doubt smuggled up in the car. His smile slips.

“I know,” he tells Tiamat. “I know--but maybe no one noticed.”

“But Louis.” Tiamat is whispering, at least. “There were cameras--”

He’s saved from his mum by a hand on his shoulder, Paul hovering around the fringe of their little group looking extremely apologetic. Louis is struck with a feeling of déjà vu.

\--

He doesn’t really remember what the nice lady from PR ends up telling him, only that ‘nice lady’ is probably a bit of a misnomer, and Louis should probably look into the ringing in his ears. It could be some sort of hearing condition or summat, as opposed to the side effect of the rather thorough verbal thrashing he’s just had. He’s not sure he should even really call it a thrashing, since it was mostly an extremely professional list of reasons why Louis cannot go around touching Harry Styles’ daemon. Or had the woman even used Harry’s name--Louis can’t remember, since Louis’d stopped listening entirely when the woman started talking about contracts.

 But Louis isn’t thinking about it at all. Nope, not at all.

He reaches where Harry and the other lads are gathered around with their parents, talking rapid-fire fast about the tour and the album and when they’re going to be seeing each other again for recording, and the first thing Louis does is slip in behind Harry and curl around him.

Tiamat ends up practically up against Harry’s legs, which no doubt both of Harry’s parents notice, but Louis doesn’t even care anymore.

“Louis?” Harry turns to look  at him, voice soft. “Alright?”

Louis squeezes him harder and shuts his eyes briefly. “Yeah, I’m--” he starts, searching for what little bit of him there’s left that still thinks acting is a viable second choice to the singing thing. Like, after footie, since at least Ti can run. “I’m good.” He cuddles into Harry’s neck, trying for playful when he adds, “Just wanted a cuddle.”

Harry’s lips twitch, a dimple poking into the bit of cheek Louis’ got his nose near. “'Kay,” he says. “I like cuddles.”

Niall makes a snorting noise from over where he’s been eating a chocolate bar. “I’ll say,” he says.

Louis would give him the finger, but that’s so much effort. Also, Harry smells lovely. And he’s so curly. He turns to better bury his face in the hair in question.

“Remember what we said at your birthday?” he says quietly.

Their mums have stopped staring at them rather blatantly and are instead talking to everyone else’s parents, but Louis knows the moment she gets him alone his mum is going to grill him.

Harry reaches down to rest his hands atop Louis’ arms, tilting back in his arms. “Mmm, what things?”

“About skiing?”

Tiamat doesn’t even protest, latching onto the idea instantly. Liana paces around their legs a few seconds more before crawling up on top of Tiamat.

“Yeah?” Harry sounds at a loss. “What about?”

“Do you wanna go?” Louis says. “Like, not now, obviously, but soon?” He looks over at his mum, smiles. “Just you and I, yeah?”

Harry pulls out of his arms a little so that he can better stare at him. “Sure?” He still sounds a bit off-balance. “But, Lou, are you okay?”

Louis leans in to rest his head against Harry’s shoulder blades. “I’ll tell you later?” he tries.

Tiamat twitches when Liana very gently bites her on the ear, but doesn’t say anything.

“Alright.” Harry’s fingers flex against where Louis’ hands are still pressed into the soft skin of his belly. “Later, then.”

\--

“We did not think this through,” says Tiamat.

“Oi, Tommo!” shouts Stan. “Not going to even try? I always said you were a pussy.”

Harry very subtly shoves him off the mountain and Louis tries not to laugh at his friend’s expense. He’s heard all the jokes before--the morning after the big reveal during the show, Stan’d texted him a whole slew of them. Louis had rolled his eyes and poked Harry in the side until the younger boy stopped frowning.

“Very funny,” Louis calls over to Stan, who’s lying starfished on his side groaning. He’s the only one of them with any moderate skill at skiing, which is patently unfair, and something Louis’ not really all that used to.

“Well, to be fair we’ve never done it before,” Tiamat points out. She’s clearly not all that bothered by Stan’s jokes--although she had put Acacia in her mouth the first time they saw each other after that little fiasco. Stan had sort of gone this ugly purple color and apologized profusely, but obviously kept at the jokes. Louis’ not all that bothered.

Harry, at least, is finally comfortable enough with Stan that he can shove him off mountains. That being said, Harry’s not comfortable on the skis at all, which would be fine, were it not for the fact that Louis’ told him that not only could he ski, but that he’d also try to teach Harry to ski. He’d later sworn Stan to secrecy and traded a ride behind the wheel of whatever luxury vehicle Louis ends up buying with his substantial amount of funds. To quote Stan.

“Piss off!” he shouts over to Stan, who hasn’t moved and keeps sighing while Acacia pecks mindlessly at the snow around his head. Louis is all of a sudden very vividly struck with the memory of her settling, of Stan rushing into his room with his cheeks flushed (apparently he’d been wanking at the time, which was probably telling) to tell him, and of him demanding that Louis try. Which had of course lead to a very awkward handjob inside his loo while Stan called in for status reports. Tiamat had refused to speak to either of them for about a week straight.

“Okay, so like, we should probably get on the skis,” Tiamat instructs him, prancing about awkwardly and eyeing him in the snow. “Also, how am I supposed to go with--”

“Hush up,” Louis tells her, stomping over to his abandoned skis and clicking his boots into it. “You’ll be fine. It’s just like footie--you just have to keep up.”

Tiamat glares at him over the ski pole she’s got in her mouth but hands them to him anyway. “I hate you so much,” she tells him, but smiles when Liana and Harry cheer at them from where they’re still stood by Stan and Acacia. Louis’ friend has picked himself up and is dusting off his bum, and while Louis can’t see his eyes under the mask, he bets he’s smirking at him.

“Yeah, I know,” Louis tells her, getting the poles situated in his gloved hands and eyeing the slope of the mountain. “Try not to die, yeah?”

“Hush up,” Tiamat snaps, parroting his words back at him, and leaves off down the mountain.

“An ‘s’, Tommo!” Stan shouts after him. “Go in an ‘s’!”

Louis glares down at his skis and wills them to cooperate. “Yes, thank you, Stanley!” he shouts back.

“You know, this isn’t so bad,” says Tiamat, sounding a little out of breath, from where she’s been following Louis in bounding leaps, making sure to stay within the bounds of their link. “In fact--”

Louis gets about three meters before Tiamat trips and promptly goes rolling down the rest of the way, at which point he has to abandon the ski poles (and God, he should have just owned up to his inexperience and gotten the little clips to keep his skis in one direction like Harry had) and fling himself down after her. He supposes it’s lucky that it happens then, because he’d pretty much abandoned any and all attempts at a smooth traversing pattern and had been picking up speed. Either way, both of them go hurling down the mountain, Louis with skis strapped to his feet and Tiamat with her tail in her mouth.

They’re not on one of the more difficult slopes, so it’s not too awful, but they end up piled in an uncomfortable bunch of limbs halfway down.

“Lou, are you okay?” Harry calls after a pause.

Stan’s laughter can probably be heard around the entire mountain range.

Louis raises a hand up into the air to flip him off.

“God, like, I don’t even want the fifty quid,” Stan crows, laughter seeping in and around his words. “Your bloody _face_.” He pauses to laugh some more. “I’m sorry, Haz.”

Louis twitches where he’s fallen when he uses Harry’s nickname. Tiamat sticks her tongue in his ear.

“He’s never done this before,” Stan continues. “Think he was trying to impress you, or summat.”

Louis raises up his other hand and flips him off with that one as well.

A few moments later, both Harry and Liana come sliding down  to meet them, Liana draped around Harry’s neck and Harry staying remarkably upright on his own skis. He points them together into a proper triangle and slows to a shaky stop.

“You alright?” he asks him again.

Louis drops both of his hands onto his face and peels his goggles off. “My bum’s a bit bruised,” he says, which seems to make Stan laugh even harder. “Also my pride, but you know.” He shrugs and flings the goggles away from him.

Harry unlocks his own skis and flops down in the snow next to him, mindful of Liana, who hisses at him and resettles on Louis’ chest. “So that whole skiing thing _was_ a line,” says Harry. “Good to know.”

Louis leans over to look at him better in the eye. “What skiing thing?”

“On my birthday.” Harry pulls off his own goggles and tosses them off somewhere to join Louis’. “You said you’d teach me to ski.”

Louis lets out a breath. “I guess I did say that, yeah,” he says. “Oops?”

Harry dimples. “Hi,” he says goofily.

Louis really can’t be blamed for how he rolls over to kiss him breathless, right in the middle of the aptly named Bunny Slope with Stan a few meters up rolling his eyes at them.

“Oi, Tomlinson!” Stan shouts. “There are children here!”

Louis pulls away from Harry’s mouth long enough to shout back at him. “Yeah, you,” he says. “Now bugger off.”

Stan laughs some more. “No, I’m good.” He leans forward on his ski poles. “Take your time.”

“We should give him a show,” Tiamat decides, and Louis sticks his hand down the front of Harry’s trousers. Like, as well as he can, seeing as Harry’s very well bundled up and they’re currently rolling around in a snow drift--Louis can now add getting off in a snow drift to his list of places where he’s attempted to have an orgasm. (The list is growing steadily longer, and steadily more prestigious; at this rate, Louis’ll probably be able to add The Brit Awards. But knock on wood.)

“Cold,” Harry hisses, but he whines when Louis pulls away. “No--I like it.” Harry sounds a mixture of embarrassed and aroused. “Don’t stop--”

“Right--Louis?” Stan raises his voice to be heard. “I’m just going to go, now.”

Louis waves a hand off towards him. “Yeah, bye,” he says, staring down at Harry, who stares back at him with similar single-minded focus.

“He’s not going to let us live this down,” Harry says. His voice is quiet, like he’s afraid speaking above a certain volume will ruin whatever calm that’s settled over the two of them.

Louis keeps his voice lowered as well. “He’ll probably let you live it down,” he says reasonably. “Since you’re new, and he likes you.”

Harry flushes a little, pleased.

“Me, however.” Louis shrugs. “I’ll be on my deathbed and Stan’ll still be giving me hell.”

Harry giggles at him. “At least I’m alright.”

Louis is mocked offended. “Oi.” He hits Harry very gently, skittering his fingers up and down his ribs. He can’t quite tickle him because of all the layers, but he makes a valiant effort. Harry laughs anyway. “You’re supposed to defend my honor, Styles.”

Harry blinks up at him. “Am I?” His voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t need anyone protecting you?”

Louis very vaguely remembers shouting something about that the first time he and Harry had to jump off the ski lift. Stan’d gone first, cackling the entire time (Louis’ just finished promising him fifty quid and a car ride) and yelling about how Harry should do better protecting Louis, who’d fallen face first and then gotten to his feet and pretended nothing had happened. “Yes, well.” He squirms a little on top of Harry, mostly to gather his thoughts. “I changed my mind.”

“Mmm.” Harry puts his hands on Louis bum. “'Kay.”

Louis tries very hard not to look too charmed. “Why, Harold,” he says. “I don’t know what to say.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him and leans up out of the snow, the bits clinging to his hair scattering, and nips him on the lip. “Shush, you,” he says. “Your hand was down my trousers, earlier.”

Louis snorts at him. “They’re very nice trousers,” he points out, glancing over to see what Tiamat and Liana have gotten up to. “Very bright. Red. More me than you, actually.”

Harry leans up to kiss him some more, tongue darting out to lick the seam of Louis’ mouth and stop him from continuing to tease. Louis can’t quite help but kiss him back, shifting a bit so he’s not putting his entire weight on his forearms and sinking down onto Harry. He reaches back behind him to find Harry’s hands, still clutching at his bum, palms searing heat through all the layers, and drags them down and away so that he can better pin the other boy to the snow.

Then he pulls back.

“Tease,” Harry tells him.

Louis is appalled. “Harold,” he tries to say, but Harry’s face smoothes out into something of a frown.

“Hey, um.” His hands twitch, gloved fingers even clumsier than usual. Louis had those fingers on his arse, several seconds earlier. “What were you so worried about when the tour ended?”

Louis doesn’t roll off of Harry, but it’s a near thing. “We should go back,” he says instead. “Or find Stan and make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.”

“Louis.” For being pinned to the side of a mountain with his mouth bitten raw, Harry looks surprisingly in control of the situation. Louis bites at his own lip and drops his head down to rest against Harry’s heart. He wishes they weren’t in public, so that he could let go of Harry’s wrists and reach--and Liana would come pressing close and pepper his face with kisses.

“Harry,” he says. “Later, please?”

Harry’s hands come up to rest in his hair, warm and comforting. “Okay,” he says.

\--

Of course later never comes, because they end up filming a [half-arsed video of Stan dancing](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/58998855433330689) while Harry cackles in the background and Tiamat stalks Acacia around the cabin. The video ends somewhat abruptly with Stan finishing his dance, only for Tiamat to leap a good few inches into the air and tackle Acacia into the floor. The ensuing scuffle and Acacia’s inhuman screech has Harry abandoning the camera in favor of joining Louis in a quest to debag Stan and upload video of _that_ to Twitter. In fact, they get all the way through a late night snack, a film, and a few rounds of card games that end with Louis and Stan butchering the French language while Harry shakes his head and Johnny threatens to murder them all, before Harry and Louis are even alone, let alone have time to talk.

And then, when they’re alone in the room they’re sharing, Tiamat curls up across their pillows very loudly proclaiming that she most definitely is _not_ going to be moving while Liana sing-songs bits of _One Thing_ in her ear.

Louis kisses Harry, because he doesn’t know how to even begin the conversation.

“Lou.” Harry stops him with a hand pressed to his chest.

“I accidentally touched Liana,” Louis blurts out. “During the last show. With cameras.”

Liana’s voice cuts off abruptly.

Harry looks glum. “Oh.”

Louis sinks down on the bed, awkward. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Haz--”

“Are they kicking you out of the band?” Harry interrupts, looking down at his hands.

Louis’ mouth closes. “What?” He gets to his feet, stalks forward so that they’re standing in front of each other, and takes both of Harry’s hands in his. “Why would they kick me out of the band?”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno.” He won’t meet Louis’ eyes. “Like, I’m not supposed to wear the top--”

Louis doesn’t let him finish, dropping his hands abruptly and pacing about the room. “Did they threaten to kick you out of the band?” he says, voice tight. “Those _wankers_ \--”

On the bed, Tiamat’s hackles have risen, tail thrashing about wildly, and Liana scrambles up her shoulders frantically.

“Whoa, whoa,” she says, curling around the back of her neck and breathing. “Ti--breathe--”

“They’re not allowed to _say_ things like that,” Louis continues, even as Harry starts grinning at him, and keeps pacing. “Like, they’re not--we’re not One Direction without you, and it’s not like you shagging me means you’re suddenly _unappealing_ to our fans--”

“Lou.” Harry’s done a full one-eighty, dimples out in full force.

Louis swallows, thrown for a loop. “Why aren’t you angry?”

This time it’s Harry who comes forward to take his hands. “Louis,” he says, then repeats it, mispronouncing, “Louis. I love you.”

Louis blinks at him. Takes that in. Keeps blinking. “Okay, but back to you being kicked out of the band--”

“No one is kicking me out of the band,” Harry says, still grinning. “No one threatened to kick me out of the band--it was more implied--”

“Implied--”

Harry puts a hand over Louis’ mouth, and then when Louis raises his eyebrows at him, narrows his eyes as if to say, ‘don’t you dare _lick_ me.’ Louis promises nothing. “I was being daft,” Harry explains. “You’ve just been all quiet and all out of sorts lately, and I was worried--”

“Move in with me,” Louis blurts out, unable to stop the way his heart his pounding in his chest. Because this entire conversation is stupid. All of Louis’ damn fears are stupid. But Harry isn’t--Harry’s brilliant, and oh so lovely, and for some bloody ungodly reason, he wants to be with Louis and kiss him and play whatever fucked up version of house Modest! wants them to.

“Keep him,” Tiamat mutters, meant only for Louis’s ears. It’s been a while since she’s spoken that quiet, with that strong of an accent, barely more than breathing, and it’s obvious from the way Harry’s brow furrows that he doesn’t quite understand her.

Louis plans on it. “Move in with me,” he repeats. “Please.”

Harry stops. “Louis,” he says finally. “We’ve already got stuff at my mum’s for our flat.” He grins. “But okay, if you want.”

Louis lets out a very watery laugh. “Awesome,” he says. “Now come to bed?”

It’s probably Louis’ favorite holiday, full stop.

\--

They have a very serious band conversation about it nearly two weeks later, during a break from recording. Louis tries his best to very seriously consider every bit of advice and concern Liam throws at him, but there’s really only so much you can take seriously when one of your best mates is coming at you with a plastic lightsaber.

“--And I just want you to do what’s best for _you_ , Lou,” Liam finishes saying, parrying one of Louis’ blows with surprising ease. He is unfairly good at this. “And not just for the band.”

“Good,” Louis twirls around to avoid getting beheaded by Zayn, who ended up on Liam’s team sometime during the initial melee to grab the lightsabers.

Niall’s decided he’s Yoda and has been driving everyone tasked with minding them insane by speaking like the Jedi Master and eating an entire packet of crisps very loudly.

“Because I’d like to continue doing Harry.” Louis whirls back around and nearly manages to stab Liam in the chest. “And he’s what’s good for me.”

On the sidelines where he’s decided to be the Padme to Louis’ Anakin, Harry gives a rousing cheer. “Yay,” he says. “Now kill me some Sith Lords.”

On his shoulders, Liana starts humming the Star Wars theme. After a few bars, Tiamat, Bethania, Fikriyya, and Eirian join in from where they’ve been seated watching like a captive audience. Granted, every time Liam nearly loses an eye, Beth makes a nervous whining noise, and Fi is most definitely feeding Zayn instructions silently, somehow, but they’re mostly captive.

Louis turns to grin at Harry, kicks Liam away, and turns on Zayn.

“For the last time, Harry,” Zayn is trying to explain, sighing, when Louis takes the moment to take his head off.

“Ha,” he says, before turning back to Liam. “You were saying?”

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret, Lou,” says Liam, blocking Louis attack on his throat with speed. So unfairly good at this. “That’s all.”

Louis drops the lightsaber with a sigh. “Li,” he says. Liam puts down his own lightsaber and smiles at him, hesitant.

Louis turns to look at the other boys, smiling very quickly at Harry before he can help himself, and then looking around the room. “There’s nothing I regret less,” he says, “than meeting you four.”

Liam looks pleased, Zayn’s lips twitch, and Niall puts down his crisps. “Like family, you are,” he says.

Zayn glances over at Louis and Liam, before the three of them grab their fallen lightsabers and turn on Niall, who manages to stay in character the entire time they’re taking turns pummeling him, and finally tackling him onto the studio floor.

By the time Paul comes back from his loo break to let them know they really should get back to recording, Harry’s joined in, and Louis’ seated atop his bandmates grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

“For the record,” Tiamat tells the room at large. “I had nothing to do with this.”

And that sets them all off again, Zayn shouting something about mutiny and Niall still speaking like Yoda, so that several minutes later finds Paul shaking his head at the new arrangement on the floor. Louis’ on the bottom, Harry covering him like some sort of human shield, while Liam and Zayn argue about who gets his title.

“Obviously I’m Darth Vader now,” Zayn says reasonably. “As of the two of us, I am much more likely to fall to the dark side--”

“If you’re Anakin now, can I be Han?” Louis interrupts. “And yes, you can be Leia,” he adds, before Harry can even ask.

The other boy practically purrs at him.

“Right.” Paul sounds almost amused. “Break’s over--Harry?”

Harry looks away from Louis’ eyes very briefly.

“Are you ready?”

Harry nods and gets up to go into the booth.

“Are you really sure?” Liam asks Louis, quietly, when they’ve all gotten to their feet and are watching Harry absolutely smash the hook of _Up All Night_.

Louis looks in at Harry, whose head is back, hands wrapped around his head set and eyes closed, and then down to Liana, who’s practically vibrating with the music. “Am I really sure I want to be stuffed into the closet, you mean?” he asks Liam, for clarification.

Liam swallows, throat bobbing. “Um, yeah,” he says.

Harry catches Louis’ eye in the split second it takes him to breathe between the two ‘on replay’s, left dimple poking into his cheek.

“Yeah,” Louis says, reaching down to tangle a hand in Tiamat’s fur. “He’s worth it.”

They pick the flat in Princess Park Manor.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends what I have been affectionately calling ‘The Puppy Love Phase’ of this fic. Take that as you will. (But don’t leave, it’s going to be so exciting!) Tumblr is [zimriya](http://www.zimriya.tumblr.com) and feel free to come say yo. I don’t bite. I am, however, somewhat overcome with the tour.


	5. May 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY THAT WAS AN ACCIDENTAL MONTH HIATUS I’M SO SORRY. I was working on the fic exchange fic, which is now done, and then this baby was refusing to be finished, but it’s clocking in at nearly 13k so I think you can all forgive me. No?
> 
> Shout out to the usual suspects for having awesome tags. My google history is never going to be the same.
> 
> Betaed by Marta, who is the best beta to ever beta like no other betas will ever beta for me like Marta betas for me she is the beta to end all other betas and I COULD GO ON. Also she has awesome hair so like. Marta has won the game of life and by having her as my beta I can get a taste of that. IT TASTES LIKE FOOTBALL AND AWESOME HAIR AND FABULOUS BETAING. ALSO THE RAINBOW. MARTA IS SKITTLES. I DON’T THINK THIS IS WHAT SHE WANTED WHEN SHE SAID SONNETS.
> 
> Also betaed by Ryssa and Vic and Vikki as always (who are also awesome I should note), with a look over by my dear S. Britpicked by Vikki and Jess. All other mistakes are in fact my own.

**May 2011**

\--

“I would like the record to show that technically we’ve already had our first date,” Tiamat whispers, watching Harry and Liana buy popcorn in a distinctly chirpy fashion. Louis hadn’t thought people could even _be_ chirpy, never mind grin _that_ wide, but Harry is proving him wrong, as always. He’s also been to-the-moon pleased ever since Louis asked him out on what Harry’s taken to calling their first proper date. Just the other day, Harry ended up wearing the torn off collar of Louis’ t-shirt wrapped around his wrist like a bloody bracelet; when Louis says he’s over the moon today, he really means it.

“Yeah, well,” Louis tells his daemon, before pasting a smile on his face in time for Harry to return to him carrying two massive boxes of popcorn and two fizzy drinks. Louis is a little appalled at how easily he manages to hold everything. He’d thought that’d be impossible. “Hi,” he tells Harry.

Harry blinks at him, still smiling sunnily, before Liana pops up from around his neck. “You’re up to something,” she decides. “You’ve both gone all...shifty.”

Harry rolls his eyes a little and hands Louis one of the boxes of popcorn, before shaking out his curls and shoving them off his forehead in a makeshift fringe. Louis is suddenly overcome with the urge to forgo the film in favor of pulling Harry aside and seeing how many bits of popcorn he can get into his hair by standing at increasing distances from him and playing basketball. Harry seems to read his mind, lips turning downwards, and he takes a step back. “Lou,” he says. “There will be no popcorn in my hair for this entire film.”

“What, all of the film?” Louis glances back towards one of the giant posters of Chris Hemsworth wielding Mjolnir with Absalom snarling in the background to see how long it’s supposed to be, and has to fight down the urge to squeal giddily about it. Thor’s got a big-cat daemon like Louis. Like, Louis knew that from reading the comics, but it hadn’t quite set in until he’d seen the previews on one of their in-flight televisions earlier that month.

Tiamat subconsciously imitates Absalom’s posture; Louis flushes a little to the tip of his ears and hopes Harry doesn’t notice.

Liana smirks at him. “Saw that,” she says, amused.

Louis ignores her, pleading with Harry in the hopes that the younger boy won’t force the issue.

“Are you pretending to be a god again, Tomlinson?” says Harry, referring to this afternoon’s attempt to be a good celebrity and actually [converse with their fans on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/68668085141377024). “Because I could call Liam and have him sigh disapprovingly at you if you like.”

Louis glares at him. “It was a typo,” he snaps. “And my bloody phone’s fault.”

“Mmm.” Harry’s grinning in a way that makes Louis think _he_ should be the one with a cat daemon, while Liana does an odd thing with her mouth that reminds him that she’s a sea-creature. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Louis snaps, petulant. “But if you want to continue being a right pillock about it I can certainly remind you how much of a god I really am.”

Harry snorts, startled, and slaps a hand over his mouth to cover the noise. They’re in the middle of a slightly dingy cinema in Stockholm just after dinner time, and no one has recognized them so far. Then again, they’re really not as famous as Louis would like to believe and the film’s been out for about a month now, so there isn’t a crowd. (Louis’ only just now convinced Paul to let them all pop out for a few hours and see it alongside most of America.) And it’s nice. Like, he likes that he can do normal things like take Harry on dates.

Speaking of... “You do realize this isn’t actually our first date, yeah?” Louis says, reaching over to nudge Harry in one shoulder. “Rosso counts.”

Harry dimples at him, pleased. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have ulterior motives for Rosso,” he says. “And football.”

“Like what?” Louis is appalled.

“Getting in my pants,” says Harry.

Louis is less appalled, because that is fair. “Are we ruling out me getting in your pants this time around?” he says, shoving into Harry’s side again.

Tiamat rolls her eyes at him, but acts as if she’s fallen against his legs. Their plan for this evening is to have her knock him into Harry’s side as many times as possible in the hopes that one of those times Harry will grab him by the shoulder to steady him and hold onto him for the rest of the evening.

Harry doesn’t disappoint, one arm coming to curl loosely around Louis’ shoulders, but Liana’s grin suggests they’re not being nearly all that subtle.

“Because maybe you’re right--this is definitely not our first date,” Louis continues saying, ignoring her pleased look.

Harry’s gone pink around the ears. “Second date,” he amends quickly. “Definitely our second date.”

Louis is a little smug, but mostly trying to seem unaffected. He hadn’t really counted on getting into Harry’s pants when they’d buggered off after recording to go see _Thor_ , but then, Louis’d gotten into Harry’s pants only hours before they’d buggered off, to be fair. That probably explained the reason the rest of the lads had practically flung themselves out of the car and into the cinema leaving Louis and Harry to get food for all of them.

“Does it even count as a date if the rest of the band is here as well?” Louis asks, honestly curious.

Paul is standing several feet away from them, sighing deeply and carrying on a conversation with Nuada, but he looks up every so often to make sure they’re not being mobbed. Not that anyone’s really noticed them. 

Harry grabs his hand in his own. “Why wouldn’t it count?”

As if on cue, Louis’ phone buzzes in his pocket.

 _Oi Tommo_ , it reads. _Where teh fuck are you? I’m hungry._

“Niall’s managed to misspell the word ‘the’,” Louis tells Harry, staring down at the words. He dances his thumb across the keys a bit so that Niall thinks he’s typing, and then stops. “Also, because the three people we very lovingly refer to as our brothers are tagging along.”

Paul clears his throat.

“Also our bodyguard.”

Harry sighs. “Lou.” He swings their hands around a few times.

Louis’ mobile buzzes again.

“It’s Zayn this time,” he says, swiping it unlocked and entering his passcode and opening his mouth to read it out loud.

 _Have you buggered off to fuck haz in the toilets, then?_ the text reads. _Is that like a thing for u 2?_

“Erm, well.” He stops and locks it again, flushed.

Tiamat leans into his side. “What’d it say?” she asks.

“Nothing whatsoever,” says Louis, flicking his phone unlocked again so that he can rather vindictively change Zayn’s name in his phone to Zayniepoo.

 _U2 is a band, zayniepoo_ , he types angrily into the phone. _And for that I’m giving Niall all your popcorn._

A moment later, his mobile buzzes again.

 _Yay_ , Niall’s written. _Popcorn._

Louis shakes his head.

“I think our tag alongs are getting hungry,” he explains to Harry, who’s looking at him in a way that makes Louis hot under his skin and more prone to twitching. He wonders if Niall will pout at him if he tries to drag Harry off towards the back for a snog or two. “But you’re only allowed to feed Liam and Niall,” he adds. “Not Zayniepoo.”

“Ah.” Harry glances down at the phone and then back up. “Zayniepoo?”

“Do you not call Zayn Zayniepoo?” Louis replies. “Shame, that.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “I see,” he says.

Louis raises his eyebrows back him. “It’s what I’ve got him as in my phone.”

Harry shakes his head, eye twinkling. “Right,” he says slowly.

“You’re Love Of My Life,” pipes up Tiamat, from his side. “It’s great--doesn’t even get cut off, makes this one go all soft in the every time you text him..” She grins and nudges against Louis’ legs. “Great.”

Louis elbows her in the face. “I thought we discussed this,” he says out of the side of his mouth, glancing around to make sure no one’s noticed her talking rather blatantly to Harry.

His daemon sighs. “Fine.” She grumbles a little. “But you should put your hood back up.”

Louis follows her instructions with a pointed little jerk of chin, before tripping very badly into Harry’s side when Tiamat slams into his lower legs.

“Oops,” she says, not sounding all that bothered. “Heavens--it’s like I’ve got two left feet.”

There’s a bit of a pause.

“Erm, well,” says Harry, eventually, passing it off as talking to Louis with a glance of his eyes. “You sort of...do?”

Liana smacks him across the face with one paw, and Louis is left shaking his head and fumbling their tickets into the amused looking usher’s hands.

“To your left,” he says, not commenting on how Liana’s flopped down across Tiamat’s back and is whispering in her ear about how _awful_ that joke was. He’s got a lizard daemon perched on his shoulder, and she looks equally endeared by the two of them.

Paul hands the man his own ticket with another long suffering sigh.

Louis ignores him, because he knows for a fact that the man’s equally excited to see the film. Louis caught him reading one of Zayn’s comics on the plane over.

Louis tries not to feel too pleased. “Thanks,” he tells the usher, and drags Harry into the screen room.

\--

“This is entirely unfair,” Louis tells Harry from where he’s sprawled across his lap with one hand fumbling at the ties of his hoodie and the other buried in his hair. He’d ask who tied the damn string into this ridiculous excuse for a bow, but he knows for a fact that it was in fact himself and he did it this morning out of some sort of petty desire to mark Harry somehow.

“What, my hoodie?” Harry’s hands have been on Louis’ arse since the moment they tumbled into the car. “Or the fact that I spent half of the film with my hand in your lap?”

Louis growls at him and nips him on the bottom lip. “The second one,” he snaps, getting the strings undone and debating shoving the thing off one of Harry’s shoulders so that he can get at his collarbones. Louis has a bit of a thing for Harry’s collarbones. The right one, to be specific--Louis is very specific-- and Harry’s no doubt noticed. Louis’ not sure what he’s going to do about that--not like he can go get it tattooed or something. “You fucking-- _the second one_.”

Harry looks smug under all the attention. “You’ve read the comics anyway,” he says. “It’s not like you missed anything crucial.”

Louis would say that he had in fact missed many crucial things, but mostly he was glad he was able to mask most of his startled gasps with the film’s Easter eggs. Also, he’s not all that certain he’s capable of voicing that sentiment.

Harry is grinning now, fingers sliding along the sliver of skin just above Louis’ waist band like he’s three seconds from groping his bum.

Louis whines in the back of his throat and buries his face in Harry’s neck so no one can see how his cheeks are aflame. 

“We are right here, you know,” says Niall eventually. “And we’d kind of like to start the car, so...”

Louis lifts his head away from Harry’s neck and glares at him.

Niall’s the only one who’d gotten into the car before Louis’d clambered into Harry’s lap, and he looks out of place in the empty space. He’s also whiteknuckling his phone, eyes darting every way _but_ Harry and Louis. Louis files that away for safekeeping.

“Please,” Liam adds from behind them. “It’s late--we’re in the studio tomorrow.”

Paul just sighs a few more times before getting into the driver’s side.

“I’m going to side with Niall,” Tiamat adds from where she’s collapsed across the tarmac of the carpark. “As much fun as this is, I’d like to go home.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “That’s two against two,” he says, craning his neck around to stare shiftily at Liam and Zayn. Liam’s pleasantly pink across the cheeks. Zayn looks amused. Louis vows to keep him in his phone as Zayniepoo until further notice. “Harold?”

“Mmm?” Instead of rushing to his defense, Harry just hums.

When Louis looks back down, it’s to find he’s got his phone out and appears to be on Twitter. A closer look reveals that he is _singing Natalie Portman’s praises_. Louis purses his lips and gets off him with as much dignity as he can, stepping back so that Eirian can get up into the car and join Niall. Tiamat gets to her feet afterwards, shaking off the arousal and lifting Liana up to join Harry.

“Shut up,” he says, when [Harry’s tweet](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/68786702587670528) goes through with a quiet ding on all of their phones.

Zayn gets his out, giggling, stepping around to the row of seats in front of them and pulling the door open.

Louis flips him off, snuggling further into Harry’s side despite himself.

“Lou,” Harry whines. “She’s a fabulous actress.”

Louis agrees, but he’s not about to tell Harry this. “Worst second date ever,” he says instead, but when Harry’s eyes dim a little, he very quickly turns so that he can peck him across the cheek.

“Wait, hang on,” says Niall, sounding less than pleased by the fact that he’s somehow ended up in the back with the two of them. “Second date?”

Zayn is suddenly very preoccupied with his phone.

Liam is still pink.

Harry is grinning again. “Erm, yeah,” he says. “But it’s fine that you all came. And the film was good. I liked it.”

“That Tom Hiddleston bloke was great,” Liam says, glad for the subject change. He shoots Louis a quick, apologetic look, though. “I really liked what he did with Loki. And his daemon was perfect.”

Zayn murmurs his agreement, one hand leaving his phone to pet through the fur at the back of Fi’s neck.

Louis would comment, but Tiamat is still sleeping off the remains of his hard-on, and he’s suddenly tired as well. At his side, Harry is still tweeting. Sometime in the interim, he’s gone and buckled both himself and Louis into their seats.

“Hey.” Louis pokes his cheek. “Do you want a real proper ‘us’ date?”

Harry lowers his phone slightly. “So pants getting into is officially off the table?” he asks.

Niall coughs loudly and raises his voice to ask Paul his opinion on the film.

Tiamat makes an amused noise at their feet. “Mmm,” she says. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” She yawns. “Rabbits, you know.”

Liana makes an agreeing noise from where she’s settled in Harry’s lap. “There’s a carrot joke in there somewhere.”

Tiamat swats at her with an errant paw. “We don’t talk about the carrot things,” she says, sentence getting halfway swallowed by a yawn. “It’s too soon.”

Liana looks like she’d press the issue if she wasn’t sprawled bonelessly across both their legs, at this point. 

Louis sighs. “No, but,” he says, as if their daemons hadn’t spoken. “We could go on a date if you like?”

“We could just have a lie in at home,” Harry decides, lips quirking. “And maybe you could make me something again.”

Louis gets that warm tingly feeling in his belly that he always gets when Harry talks about their flat. It bleeds into Tiamat on the floor, whose tail flops around a little when she pretends she’s not studiously committing Liana’s scent to memory. Louis knows for a fact she could pick Li, Fi, Eirian, and Bethania out in a crowd at this point regardless, but he doesn’t comment.

Harry is still speaking. “With supervision so that you don’t accidentally burn down our flat, of course,” he says, pausing. “And then after...” He trails off and raises his eyebrows a few times.

Louis shoves him. “How _presumptuous_ , Harold,” he says. “Why do I even like you?”

“Just Harry,” Harry corrects, grinning. “And I’m just observing a pattern.”

Eirian bleats nervously next to them.

“Well, Just Harry,” says Louis. “Yer a Wizard!”

Harry just shakes his head at him, grinning, and cuddles harder into his side. “Whatever you say,” he says. “Hagrid.”

Louis balks, shoving Harry off his shoulder and interrupting the other lads to debate the fact that he is _obviously_ both of the Weasley twins and not _Hagrid_.

\--

“So, Natalie Portman,” says Louis, when they’re finally alone in their room. The drive back to the hotel had been amusing, but at least Harry hasn’t done more than scroll through his mentions and smirk at Louis. Which he is still doing now, but at least they’re alone. Not that that had helps matters much, since Harry smirking is very distracting regardless of locale. “Natalie Portman,” Louis says again, giving himself a quick shake.

Harry looks up from the bed where he’s sprawled, phone out, and tongue between his teeth. “Yeah?”

Liana is on his stomach, tail swishing back and forth, watching the both of them with half lidded eyes.

Louis can feel Tiamat hovering around his legs, the weird feeling he’s got in his chest on full display in the way she can’t quite stay still. He’s not jealous, because they don’t even _know_ Natalie Portman, but he’s also not okay with Harry singing other people’s praises. Or--something. He doesn’t really know what’s wrong with him.

Harry is looking at him, pensive.

“You seemed very...fond,” Louis says. He has to fish for the words at the end, brain running around almost like a hamster in a wheel, because Harry’s t-shirt has ridden up just enough to show a sliver of skin. He reminds himself that just earlier that day he’d had his hands there, pressed into the soft flesh of Harry’s hips and curled around to cup his arse. He swallows.

“I was merely making an observation,” says Harry. He’s being a little shit.

Louis narrows his eyes into slits and pulls out his own phone and starts to type a tweet. He sinks down onto his knees on the bed near Harry. “Just watched Thor. Natalie Portman is my celebrity crush,” he recites, twisting around on the bed when Harry goes for him, dumping Liana off his lap and tossing his own phone somewhere. “Exclamation mark, exclamation mark,” Louis continues, grinning a smidge. “She is amazing.”

Harry gives up, falling back on the bed like a starfish. “I give up, you tease,” he grumbles. “I hate you.”

“Ah, H, you know you’re my favorite celebrity.” Louis pauses, and takes a deep breath. “However back to the tweet--Exclamation mark, exclamation mark-- _Harold_ \--!”

Harry grabs him by the hips, tugging him forward till Louis has to fling his phone off to join Harry’s in order to avoid smacking their foreheads together. Not before hitting [send](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/68793131763630080), however. He ends up hovering over Harry’ arms braced on either side of his head, breathing hard.

“Tease,” Harry repeats, voice very, very low. His breath comes hot against Louis’ lips.

“You love it.” Louis swallows and grabs his phone, pulling up Harry’s own Natalie Portman tweet and responding [angrily in all capitals](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/68794459596390400). After a moment, Harry’s phone dings, and he sneaks out a hand to grab it. As he’s doing that, Louis gives his own mentions a scroll. “You reckon her daemon’d be nice?”

Harry makes an aborted snarling noise, snatching Louis’ mobile from his hands and tossing it off to the side before Louis can do more than ask the question. Louis winces a little as the phone goes bouncing off the side of the bed, but Harry just reaches up to set a possessive hand in Louis’ hair.

Louis has to work very hard to act like he’s not all that bothered by that. “Well?” he asks, shifting awkwardly on his knees. He wants very much to sink down onto Harry, press their hips together and _ruin_ him, but Harry’s looking at him with an odd, almost feral look in his eyes and it’s making Louis’ stomach jump about like he’s got live wires inside.

“Butterflies,” Tiamat informs him, from...somewhere. Louis honestly can’t be arsed to find her at the moment; he knows where she is she’s probably got Liana bundled in close so that there aren’t any edges between them. “The term you are looking for is butterflies.”

“Actually, the term I am looking for is fuck me,” Louis says before she can finish, gazing down at Harry’s lips. “Unless you would rather I go find Natalie Portman--”

He tries his best to enunciate clearly at the end but Harry is arching up and kissing him, hand tightening in his hair and one leg coming to wrap up around Louis’ hip.

“New rule,” he decides against Louis’ lips, breathing harshly into the barely there space between their mouths. “No talking about anyone full stop in bed.”

Louis darts his tongue out to wet his lips. “Not even hot actresses who are quote incredible unquo--te?” Louis presses, voice cracking in the middle when Harry tips them over so that they’re lying on their sides, pelvises pressing together for one, blissful moment.

“Not even them,” Harry agrees. “Now you were saying about fucking?” He doesn’t give Louis any more time to think of something suitably witty to say in response, bending down to latch onto Louis’ neck with just a hint of teeth. They know better than to leave marks where anyone can go about seeing them (Harry’s little t-shirt bracelet aside), so Harry knows perfectly well just the right balance of pressure to leave Louis gasping and breathless but lovebite free in the morning.

He groans anyway, hips fucking up against the leg Harry’s got between his thighs (when had that happened?) and one hand coming up to press into Harry’s curls and hold him in place. Not that Harry’s going anywhere, judging by the smirk he hides against Louis’ Adam’s apple.

“Hmm?” Harry seems to be asking him something, lips twitching, and while neither of them are unaffected by the kissing, he looks like he’s coming out as the clear winner in terms of wits. Although, when he glances to his left, he finds that Tiamat has draped a  large paw across Liana’s back and is purring gently, so maybe they’re a little more evenly matched.

Louis narrows his eyes a little and rolls them right back, taking Harry’s wrists in his hands and very slowly pressing them up above his head and holding them there. It makes Harry’s eyes go that much darker, eyes darting between Louis’ lips and the grip he’s got on his wrists. “I was saying I wanted you to fuck me,” Louis tells him, when it’s clear he’s got his entire attention. “And before you so rudely interrupted me, wondering if you maybe had Natalie Portman’s number--”

Harry’s eyes uncross and he scowls, looking almost actually miffed, before he twists his wrists free of the cage of Louis’ hands so that he can grab him by the bum and haul him close. “Louis,” he says, voice a little short. He doesn’t look like he’s quite sure how to continue, how to even deal with the feelings fluttering across his face --jealousy, foremost, and something softer that Louis isn’t thinking about because that way lies sentimental stuff and probably crying.

“Harry,” Louis replies, smug.

Harry’s eyes narrow a bit more and he very slowly tightens his grip on Louis’ arse, hips working upwards until Louis stops caring about having the last word and starting thinking about whether or not he can reach the condoms he’s got stored in the bedside drawer. The bed’s been made since they left, new sheets put on the duvet draped up over the pillows fancily, and Louis wonders if the hotel staff found the condoms. Or the banana flavored lube.

“Where’d you put the lube?” he asks Harry, curiously.

Harry’s hips go still instantly, teeth biting into his lips and he _whines_ , before turning to press his face into the pillow next to them.

Louis blinks, startled. “Okay,” he says, shifting his own hips a little to make up for the fact that Harry’s gone stiff as a board. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping to get.”

“Lou,” Harry whines out, voice sounding broken. “You don’t have to tease.” He’s still got his hands groping Louis’ bum, but Louis gets the feeling that’s only because Harry’s forgotten how to properly move.

“What, by making sure you didn’t accidentally get rid of our last packet of lube?” Louis says, still a bit confused. “Or, like, leave it somewhere for a cleaning lady to nick it, I guess, since I think I flung it somewhere this morning.”

Harry flushes high across his cheeks, probably remembering how Louis woke him up this morning by folding him in half and whispering in his ear all about their little date. “No--I--” He finally turns to look up at Louis, eyes a bit glassy. “You’re not taking the piss?”

Louis blinks a few more times. “Why would I be taking the piss?” he says slowly. “Unless this is some sort of horrible attempt to be romantic because of how we met, in which case, Hazza, I love you dearly, but watersports are not on the table right now.” Louis really hadn’t meant to say that, but to be fair he’s more than a little nervous since technically speaking this is the first time they’re going about doing it this way. It’s not like they’ve haven’t done other things, because even though Louis wouldn’t trade fucking Harry’s brains out for the world, he also isn’t blind to the wonder that is Harry’s Styles’ fingers. And that, while a lovely image, was not where Louis wanted this conversation to go either.

He glances over at their daemons again as a reflex, to check and see if Tiamat is laughing at him. She’s not, but Liana’s also got one of her ears between her teeth, so...

When Louis looks back down, he finds that at least Harry doesn’t look _too_ bothered by his little outburst--in fact he looks almost amused, lashes casting dark shadows across his cheekbones. “No, I mean,” he says, letting go of Louis’ bum so that he can fish a packet of lube out of his jean pockets.

Louis’ mouths falls shut. “ _Oh_ ,” he says. “Oh--that. That makes sense-- _Harry_.” He sounds too pleased at the audacity of the boy beneath him for any of it to come out biting, and so Harry just grins back at him toothily and rips the thing open.

And then pauses. “You’re still wearing your jeans,” he says.

Louis glances down at the slowly leaking packet of lube and his still clothed legs. “Why yes,” he says slowly. “I am.”

Harry swallows for a moment. “Our last packet of lube?” he says, voice dipping up in a decidedly hopeful manor.

Louis lets that sink in for a moment, before the two of them are springing into action, Louis rolling off Harry to work on getting his jeans off while Harry coats his fingers in the lube.

“You could just fuck me,” Harry says conversationally, getting his own flies down and pushing his boxers down beneath his cock.

It’s a nice cock, one that Louis is intimately familiar with and not at all helping him concentrate on peeling off his jeans. Why in the world had wardrobe decided that what Louis really needed was jeans that are maybe a size too small, again? At least they’re not skinny jeans--Louis absolutely draws the line at skinny jeans. He gets them off with one quick yank, kicks them off towards the end of the bed, before turning to glance up at Harry.

Harry’s got one hand wrapped loosely around his dick, the other playing at the softer skin of his hips, and one side of his mouth curving upwards. “Fucking me would solve all of our problems.”

Louis snarls, reaching down to grab the bottom of his t-shirt and yanking it over his head, and scrambling up the bed and into Harry’s lap. “Harry Styles I swear if you put your fingers anywhere near anything _but_ my arse--” He bats Harry’s hands away from his own cock and looks pointedly down at him. “I’ll have you know that I was much nicer to you when it was your first time doing this.” His words lose some of their bite when his cock catches on Harry’s and Louis ends up moving his hips up in response.

“I was just saying,” Harry says, almost grudgingly, eyeing the slide of their cocks against his belly. “You were perfect, though.” He blinks up at him, honesty shining in his eyes.

Louis’ lips part on another almost snarl, and he bends down to kiss Harry. He suddenly wants Liana here, even though he and Tiamat had talked about doing it this way for the first time in hushed tones and decided it should be something between Harry and Louis alone, and that they would have the rest of their lives to get so tangled up in the four of them that from the outside looking in they’d be one. But Harry’s staring up at him with big, green eyes and Louis wants nothing more than to bury a hand in his daemon’s fur and hold. He bites back that urge and kisses him harder instead. “Jeans,” he mutters into his mouth. “You’re still wearing your own jeans.”

Harry makes a humming noise and sucks a little on Louis’ bottom lip until the flesh is red and raw and faintly stinging. “You’ll have to get off of me if you want me to deal with that.”

“Uh uh,” Louis agrees, continuing to grind down into Harry’s lap. “I mean--what?”

And then Harry’s shaking his head at him, seeming almost older, and gently nudging him out of his lap so that he can drag his jeans and boxers down. Which brings Louis back to how nice his cock is. He licks his lips.

When he lifts his gaze back up, he finds Harry looking far less confident than he’d sounded before and something pings sweetly in Louis’ chest. “First time two point oh?” he says, making it into half a question and half a joke, resting a hand gently against Harry’s chest.

It seems to do the trick, because Harry’s hands are moving much more assuredly down the small of Louis’ back and Harry’s lips are moving much more assuredly against the seam of his mouth and he gets a finger down to press against his hole. “Gonna make it good for you,” he decides, pressing just the tip of his index finger inside.

Louis’ whole chest heaves, the breath leaving his lungs in one quick gust of air, and while he’s no stranger to the wonder that is Harry Styles’ fingers and Harry Styles’ hands, this is the first time they’ve done this with the express purpose of getting Louis’ ready for Harry’s dick. Harry’s dick, incidentally, is equally wondrous. Harry seems to be waiting for Louis to say something, so he manages a somewhat broken, “I should hope so,” before the younger boy is pressing in with one long finger. “Nghh,” Louis says. “Condom.”

Harry doesn’t seem all that concerned, curling his finger a hint and making Louis’ entire body thrum with the memory of how that feels when he’s deeper and using more than one. “Back pocket,” he says.

Louis blinks down at him and he nods towards his own discarded jeans. “You’re lucky no one in this band seems to want to use a belt,” Louis tells him, but he reaches for the foil anyway. “And that the Swedish are too kind to interrupt a world famous boyband when they’re clearly on holiday about to watch the latest Thor film.”

“World famous,” mutters Tiamat, breaking the silence, and Louis flings the jeans at her in retaliation.

“Shut up,” he tells her brightly. “I am about to lose my virginity, thanks.”

“You’re not a virgin,” his daemon presses, almost petulantly. Louis has no idea why she would bring that up _now_ , of all moments, until Harry and Liana make another one of those possessive noises and Louis’ head goes all foggy with pleasure. He’s not sure what Liana is doing to his daemon, but he’s not all that concerned, because Harry has got two fingers pressed up inside him stroking _just so_.

“It’s not important,” Louis explains to Harry, answering his unasked question without thinking twice about it. There isn’t room in his brain for anything other than the coil of arousal low in his belly and the curl of Harry’s fingers. “You’re important.”

Harry laughs like he can’t quite help it, reaching out to wrap a hand back around Louis’ waist to ease the strain on his thighs. Louis thinks quietly that it’s wonderful that he played so much football as a child and then giggles a little about how this is probably not at all what his mum thought he’d be doing with the sport.

“What’re you laughing about?” says Harry, but he doesn’t sound all that displeased.

Louis just rocks his hips down a few times and sighs. “Love you,” he says dreamily. “So much.”

Harry grins. “And not Natalie Portman?”

Louis cracks open an eye. “I thought you said no mentioning other people in bed, Harold,” he murmurs, squirming a little when Harry’s fingers find his prostrate and just _stay_ there, brushing up against it so that he feels it but not enough to be nice. It’s hot and Louis is sticky and Harry is a tease. But despite this, Louis can’t even say he hates him. Even jokingly.

“Right.” Harry swallows. “Right, okay.”

“Condom,” Louis says again, sighing a little as Harry works a third finger in on the next stroke. “Condom-- _God_ \--Haz--”

Harry doesn’t even bother to tease him, pulling his fingers out and scrabbling for the condom that Louis’d forgotten was in his hand. And of course Louis is in no state to tease him, because as soon as Harry’s finished rolling the thing on he’s lifting his hips and helping Louis to sink, down, down, _down_ onto his cock.

And then there’s really no time for talking, after that.

\--

Louis wakes up in the morning, gets up to have a wee, and pauses. “Ow,” he says quietly to himself, squinting. He shifts a little on the balls of his feet trying to see if he can make it better, and winces when that only makes the ache in his hips worse.

He turns to glare over at Harry, who is still sound asleep and faintly snoring. He’s using Liana as a pillow and got Tiamat sprawled entirely across his left side and that’s unfairly adorable, but he’s also the reason Louis’ got muscle pain where he didn’t even know he had muscles.

Louis points at Harry and says darkly, “This is your fault.”

Tiamat hadn’t done much beyond lifting her head off Harry’s chest when he untangled himself from the two of them, but her ears twitch when she hears him and her mouth opens.

Louis points back at her. “ _Say nothing_ ,” he hisses, and goes to piss to the sound of his daemon’s laughter.

Of course when he gets into the loo, he has to do a double take when he sees the state of his chest. He supposes he’s lucky Harry kept it below the neckline of most of his tops, because Lou might have murdered both of them. Or probably just Louis, since Tiamat seems convinced that Lou likes Harry best based on a conversation she had with Silvanus the other day.

“Also your fault,” he says, directed back at Harry, although, since the other boy is still sleeping, it’s mostly just for show. On the bed, he can feel Tiamat starting to stir, and Louis leans slightly forward until their bond is practically humming. It doesn’t hurt yet, but Tiamat untangles from Harry none the same.

“Why’re you up at arse o’clock in the morning?” she murmurs to him, yawning a little. Louis keeps his eyes on his reflection in the mirror but kicks out a leg to nudge her in the side.

“Loo,” he explains, pressing a finger to one of the bruises that sits high across his chest thoughtfully. 

“Lou is going to kill you, I think you mean,” his daemon puts in, but Louis’ not really listening. He quite likes the look of that--Harry’s possession etched across his skin; it wouldn’t be so bad to put something of Harry’s there forever. 

“Louis.” Tiamat doesn’t get her paws up on the side, but Louis can tell she definitely wants to.

He narrows his eyes down at her a little but doesn’t stop thumbing over the marks. “Yeah, whatever they’re not _that_ noticeable.”

Tiamat might be upright, but the combination of blankets and Harry has left her slack and sleepy, a true big cat. “True,” she says. “But have we got anything that requires sitting for today?”

Louis drops his hand and turns to glare at her. “I said say nothing,” he snaps. He’d head back to bed, but he might have to waddle. That’d be a terrible thing to do in light of their argument; Tiamat would probably wake the rest of the lads laughing. Of course it’s arse o’clock in the morning, and Louis has a warm, pliant, and still slumbering Harry in his bed. (Never mind that Harry is the reason for the waddling.)

He heads back to bed with as much dignity as he can, also to the sound of his daemon’s laughter, and curls angrily around Harry.

“Also, we’ve just got recording, today!” he calls back to Tiamat, sliding a leg over Harry’s when the other boy stirs on the bed. “So I don’t have to sit down at all. So ha.”

“Mmm,” says Harry. “Lou?”

“Sleep,” Louis tells him, petting Liana a few times for good measure. Then he points over at Tiamat. “Ha.”

[Niall decides that what they really should do after they finish recording is go see the new Bradley Cooper film](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/69149925975408640), and Louis spends the entire two plus hours in the cinema cursing Tiamat.

Ha, indeed.

\--

Their first day off in Sweden, Louis wakes up feeling fully rejuvenated with energy thrumming in his veins. It’s the type of thing that makes him want to poke things, which had gotten him into quite a bit of trouble during his younger years, and is probably the reason his mum’s got gray hairs.

At the foot of his and Harry’s bed, Tiamat is swishing her tail back and forth in some sort of mindless game, which explains half the jitters. It’s not entirely natural to be sleeping when your daemon isn’t, but Louis and Tiamat have never been natural, her settling when he was bloody eighteen and all. But still.

Louis’ been asleep for the entire night; he doesn’t know if he can say the same for Tiamat.

“Morning,” she says, setting her tail back down. “Sleep well?”

Louis wonders what it says about his own personality that he keeps flipping his own daemon off. “Bugger off,” he says out loud, for good measure. Neither he nor Harry have gotten around to having the daemons and sex talk, so while all three of the lads have taken to making terrible and frankly offensive jokes (Liam included; Louis regrets deciding to corrupt him), he doesn’t really know what Tiamat and Liana get up to beyond snuggling.

“Sore?” his daemon presses.

Louis makes a note to have the daemons and sex talk with Harry as soon as possible. Also to tell Harry just how much Tiamat likes to have her left ear scratched. “I hate you.”

Ti makes a humming noise and sprawls more solidly across Louis’ legs in a truely arseholish way. She’s awfully careful of the still slumbering Harry and Liana, so it’s not that much of an arseholeish move. “I’m bored,” she says, which does nothing to help with the itch under Louis’ skin.

He lets his eyes roam across the contents of his and Harry’s hotel room dejectedly, before settling on the bedside clock. And then he frowns, because it’s actually not arseholish to wake Harry, seeing as it’s nearly one.

He pokes Harry in the cheek. “Haz.”

He waits a moment.

“Harry.”

Harry’s eyelids twitch and his breathing gets less steady, but beyond a cursory shift to bury his face better in the pillows he doesn’t move. He’s almost a starfish, naked from the waist up (and down, if Louis is remembering correctly) and far too beautiful for his seventeen years. Not that Louis goes around describing Harry as beautiful to anyone out loud, mind you.

“You would if you could,” Tiamat points out, under her breath.

Louis ignores her and gets his face as close to Harry’s as he can without touching so that he can listen to Harry breathe. After a moment, the telltale change in exhales lets him know Harry’s waking up.

“Haz, wake up,” Louis says again, just to be certain. “I’m bored.”

Tiamat watches the two of them for a moment more, before shuffling up the bed and slapping a paw down over Harry’s face.

Harry doesn’t stir.

Louis meets his daemon’s eyes and giggles, waiting with baited breath as Harry goes from pleasantly sleeping to confused as to why he’s got a leopard paw across his cheek.

“Um,” he says finally. “Ti?”

“Louis, actually,” Louis says. “But I would love some tea.”

Tiamat makes one of those odd cat laughs in response and leans forward to lick a stripe across Harry’s other cheek. “Hi,” she says softly. She’s using her Louis voice, the voice that Elpidius spent years trying to convince her wasn’t appropriate for any of Louis’ siblings. Of course simply speaking to Tiamat was never really effective, so his mum’s daemon spent most of Louis’ childhood _biting_ Tiamat, now that he thinks back on it. But that aside, other than his siblings, Tiamat never speaks to anyone other than Louis like that.

And now she’s gone and done it with Harry; Louis’ stomach is suddenly filled with butterflies.

“Hello.” Harry’s voice is muffled by the pillow and Tiamat’s paw. “Is there any reason your hand is on my face?”

“Paw,” points out Liana, uncurling from her spot by Harry’s hip with a yawn. “Leopards haven’t got hands.”

Tiamat swats her in the face with her tail without even blinking or looking at her.

Louis makes an involuntary noise--so that’s why she was fiddling with her tail that morning. Afternoon. It is afternoon, at this point, as a glance at the clock informs Louis. He’s still bored. But now Harry’s awake.

“It’s afternoon,” he tells Harry, setting his chin down across the other boy’s chest. “Entertain me.”

Harry yawns a little, which gets Tiamat to draw her paw back. His eyes get crinkly at the corners. “And how would you like me to do that?” Harry says, ever proper, even as his fingers are sliding across the planes of Louis’ lower back and down to grip his naked bum.

So they’re both naked, then.

Louis’ slightly less bored, he has to give him that. “Not like that,” he says anyway, because while he would like nothing more than to go back to bed with Harry (or _stay_ in bed with Harry?) that would just make him sleepier. It wouldn’t solve the itch under his skin.

Harry’s hands leave Louis’ bum and come up to curl against his shoulder blades, his lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Good morning, Lou,” he says gently, voice raspy. “Would you like to play basketball?”

Louis blinks. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting, but it’s brilliant. Like, Harry is the best person in the world.

“With the rest of the lads?” he says, smiling despite himself.

“Do you wanna go wake Niall?” Harry agrees, smiling as well.

Louis debates putting on actual clothing for about five seconds. “Absolutely,” he says, deciding not to. “Love you.” He presses a quick kiss to Harry’s mouth before he’s sneaking off into the hallway, Tiamat making pained noises and trying to cover his modesty as best she can.

“Careful!” Harry shouts after them, cackling. “People might think it’s catching!”

Louis shoots him a curious look. “What, nudity?” he calls back.

Harry just shakes his head and gets up to take to use the loo, so Louis turns his attention back to banging on Niall’s hotel room door.

“Niall,” he says. “I’m bored.”

There’s silence from the other room--no doubt Niall is trying to sleep in because it’s their day off and he’s finally got the single room--before Tiamat’s ears twitch and she mutters, “I can hear Eirian.”

Louis knocks again, trying to decide on the best pose to greet Niall in. Tiamat is still worryingly weaving between his legs, which is doing nothing to help matters, but Louis has long since mastered the art of flexing for shitty facebook selfies; he can do come hither. In fact, Louis’ come hither pose is so successful that he only had to use it on Harry once-- _after_ Harry’d finished coming hither and was safely ensconced in Louis’ bed.

Niall won’t know what hit him.

Louis is aware the effect is somewhat lessened by the smattering of lovebites Harry’s put all over his chest, but beggars can’t be choosers.

By the time Niall tugs the door open looking pained and half asleep, Louis has got one arm resting against the wall and his eyes half lidded. “Well hello there, stranger,” he purrs, and if Tiamat had hands, she’d be putting her face in them. “Fancy a shag?”

Niall’s mouth drops open for a quick second, eyes darting down to see if Louis really is as naked as his brain is telling him, before he’s grabbing Louis by the arm and hauling him into the hotel room.

“Jesus, Tommo, we’ve not bought out the entire hotel--what if somebody _saw_ you--” Niall mutters, a blush staining high across his cheeks, as Louis cackles and flops himself onto Niall’s bed. Niall makes a face. “And now I’m going to have to wash the sheets,” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s a hotel, Nialler,” he points out. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Niall shakes his head a little, one hand coming up to play with his hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Any reason you’re waking me on our day off like...that?” He waves a hand towards Louis’ cock and Eirian makes a pained bleating noise.

Tiamat seems to lose the battle against pouncing on Niall’s daemon, letting out something of a battle cry as she goes. Louis is reminded of that time during X-Factor where she chased Bethania’s tail all around the stage until Liam looked about two seconds from bursting into actual tears.

Evidentially Niall remembers as well, because he says, “please do not eat her tail, Ti,” like they talk to each other’s daemons every day. They do, but something warm still settles in under Louis’ breastbone anyway. He hadn’t really expected to find that much of a family in the boys.

Before Louis can continue addressing the nudity issue, they’re interrupted by Harry knocking on the door.

“Niall?” he says. “Why have you trapped Lou in your room? He hasn’t got any clothes.”

Louis lifts both his arms up above his head and smirks long and hard at Niall, before pausing. “Quick,” he hisses out the corner of his mouth. “Get up here--we’ll make him jealous--”

Harry realizes the door hadn’t shut all the way proper about the time Niall leaps onto the bed and elbows Louis in the stomach in the process, so when he tentatively presses into the room, he finds the two of them tangled awkwardly together.

“Um.” Harry’s eyebrows dart upwards.

Louis tries his best to look less pained and more aroused. He’d try for come hither again, but something tells him that wouldn’t go over very well. “Hi, Harry.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” Niall sounds like he’s the one who’s been elbowed in the intestines. “Please don’t have me murdered.”

Harry’s eyes are a little harder than usual, but he comes closer to the bed. Louis can see he’s carrying boxers, trousers, a t-shirt, and some socks. He gets to his feet and retrieves the first three from Harry gratefully, and eyes the fourth distrustfully.

“You’ll thank me when you’ve not cut up your feet playing basketball,” Harry says, lips twitching, before his eyes dart back to Niall. He steps between the two of them pointedly.

Louis hides a grin in the t-shirt, stepping into the boxers. “What would I do without you?” he says.

“Probably Niall,” says Harry.

“Oi!” Niall crosses his arms from where he’s still lying across the bed. “I’m a bloody fine catch.”

Liana gives a loud squawk, and when Louis pulls his head through the hole he finds that she’s launched herself at Eirian as well.

Niall’s daemon ends up sprawled in heap by the bed, legs tangled. “You two are made for each other,” she says sadly.

“Why are you in my room again?” says Niall.

“Basketball,” Harry explains. “Lou wanted to play.”

Niall makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Right--which explains the nudity how?”

Louis stops with one arm through a sleeve to waggle his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“We were sleeping,” Harry hurries to tell him, but the pleased tinge to his voice ruins the sentiment.

“Right,” Niall says again. “Well, thanks for that image.”

Louis gets the t-shirt on and pauses.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Liana points out. Louis turns to point at her, and can’t help but grin at how she’s climbed up on top of most of Eirian’s face.

Niall reaches for his phone. “Please don’t remind me,” he says.

Tiamat pads over and gently picks Liana up off of Eirian and brings her over to Louis, who very gently tugs her up onto his newly clothed shoulders.

Harry whines a little low in this throat, eyes going glassy and lips parting. Louis makes a note to move having the daemons and sex talk to the forefront of his metaphysical to-do list.

The room goes abruptly silent.

“So basketball,” Niall says finally. “You woke me up on our day off to play basketball?”

Louis shakes. “Why, you scared I’m going to be better than you?” he says.

Niall narrows his eyes. “[I’m telling Twitter](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/69730956545757184),” he says darkly.

“That a yes?” Louis hands Harry Liana back.

“[Twitter](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/69731084207796224)!” Niall repeats, pointing at him, before heading for his own hotel room loo.

Louis just laughs.

\--

Louis supposes he really should have seen it coming, after the tightness to Paul’s eyes and the less than pleased way their handlers had been when they’d all filed in from their impromptu basketball match the other day, but he hadn’t been expecting it to be quite so...painful.

Then again, getting chewed out by men in black suits with more money than Louis can even dream of is never pleasant. He wants to say that he’s recovered from the end of the Live Tour and his little incident touching Liana, but that would be a lie.

Technically speaking, it’s not like he’s being singled out, as all of the boys had been present at the beginning of their usual dos and don’ts of being famous and in debt to Simon Cowell and his conglomerates. Technically speaking it could even have been worse, since it’s not like Louis’ even _done_ something this time, but Louis’ never been one for technicalities, anyway.

The fact that Louis was the only one called back and told in no uncertain terms that he was to ‘tone it down’, probably doesn’t help matters. He’s been left awkwardly facing the door, trying to make it seem like he only got called in after the others because he’s the only one legal to drink, fingers curled into ugly fists at his sides and lips pressed tightly together.

He can’t remember the last time he really wanted to cry.

“Hey.” Tiamat is a comforting presence pressed against his leg. “Not until we’re alone.”

Louis drops a hand down to grip the fur at the back of her neck and steps out of the room.

Harry’s the only one waiting for him--the others have headed back into the booth to keep recording, no doubt. Niall’s probably ribbing Zayn for the girlfriend announcement he and Rebecca will be doing later that week via Twitter. Liam’s probably smashing a chorus.

Louis just wants to cry a little.

“Hey.” Harry’s brow is furrowed, concern etched into every line in his face.

Louis musters a smile.

“Hey yourself,” he says. “Even though you’re not a horse.”

Harry pauses. “Horse?” he says.

“You know.” Louis hasn’t let go of Tiamat since leaving the room. “Hay, and all.” He shrugs, sighing, managing to get his hands free to run through his hair. “Wow, that was bad.”

“Louis.” Harry is suddenly stepping forward.

Louis wonders when he got taller than him, and then realizes he knows the exact time and day he woke up and had to look ever so slightly up to meet Harry eyes, and then he wonders when he’ll _stop_ knowing that. “Harry,” he tries. “Um--”

“Are you okay?” Harry doesn’t waste any time. “What did they want to say to you that they couldn’t say to us--”

“Nothing,” he says. “It was nothing--I mean, well.”

Tiamat makes a distressed noise at his side. “We’re going to hold them all up,” she whispers, like the other boys aren’t stalling for them like the younger brothers Louis never knew he needed.

He swallows. “Sorry,” he settles for, finally.

Harry looks even more concerned. “It’s okay,” he says. “But, Lou--”

“It’s rather gay, though, innit?” Louis continues, well aware that his voice sounds the smallest Harry’s probably ever heard it. “I mean, the glasses and the bright tops and the yelling--”

“ _What_?”

Louis can’t not look at Harry at that, eyes snapping up to detail every little fleck of concern shining in Harry’s eyes.

“ _Louis_.”

“No, I mean.” Louis swallows again. “That’s what they were saying, I guess.”

Harry’s eyes harden. “They’re not allowed to say that, are they?” he says.

Louis shrugs. “Well, I mean,” he says. “We did sign the contract--”

“Lou,” Harry says again, voice doing that same dipping thing. Louis can’t look him in the eye.

Liana peeks out from behind Harry’s ear. “You’re crying,” she notes, straight to the point. “Lou--”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me,” Louis snaps, feeling helpless and cruel, and itching out of his skin.

Liana’s mouth snaps shut, hurt flashing across her face, before she tucks back in behind Harry’s hair.

It’s getting long again, big and bushy, and curling kindly around his ears. Louis wants to run his hands through it and never let go--wants to be able to do that in public. Of course he’s _not allowed_ , and God, just the other day Louis was telling Liam it was worth it--

The breath goes out of his lungs like a great gust of wind, Tiamat’s mouth coming open in panic. She’s hissing, doing that weird breathing thing Louis’ seen housecat daemons do when their humans were panicky or nervous. Louis feels much the same, wants nothing more than to turn away and bang his head against the wall a few times.

It’s worth it.

It’s so worth it.

Louis doesn’t want to look at anyone else like he looks at Harry--doesn’t want to run his hands through anyone else’s hair, or learn anyone else’s exceedingly odd way to take their tea. He doesn’t want to wake up in the morning and find anyone else sleepily staring back, or kiss any other pair of lips, and like, maybe that’s poetic and contrived and the stuff that the Louis whose father left him when he was barely days old should scoff at, but it’s fact, and it’s not changing, and Louis cannot _believe_ he even thought it wasn’t worth it. That _Harry_ wasn’t worth it.

Harry’s still looking at him, though, with his eyes all dewy and concerned, and when he reaches out a hand to cup Louis’ jaw, Louis can’t help but take a step back.

Harry is worth it. Harry is--Harry is _it_ for Louis, and you’re not supposed to feel like that at nineteen on the brink of a world career. Louis shouldn’t want kisses and tea and marriage and all the other ridiculously sappy things Louis wants with Harry, but he does, and it’s _terrifying_.

He takes another step back.

“Lou?” says Harry, hand still stuck awkwardly between the two of them,

“At least Ti’s a girl, you know?” Louis says, not meeting his eyes.

The room goes very still.

Finally Louis manages something of a laugh, and pulls himself upwards and away, heading for the door. “Come on,” he says, not looking over his shoulder. “We’ve got a song to record.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Harry follows.

\--

“You’re an idiot,” says Tiamat. It’s nearly nine PM and they’ve been practically been run out of the booth by a slightly out of breath Paul. The man’d been muttering something about how ‘couldn’t Louis give him a day off from wrangling him--or limit his antics to once a month?’ which Louis decided was actually rather brilliant, now that he thought about it.

“What do you think of the twenty second?” he asks Tiamat, who sighs.

“You’re distracting me,” she replies quickly. “But maybe.”

Louis pulls out his mobile to text Zayn, who he left outside the booth watching Liam smash a chorus, pointedly _not_ pulling faces and making Paul’s life a living hell. To quote Paul. Maybe Louis should make it the twenty-second if only so that Paul can stop looking quite to ready to give him over to the wolves. Or fans, Louis supposes.

“But really,” Tiamat says, before Louis can go so far to text all the lads about only being fiends once a month. “Why’re we angry at Harry?”

“We’re not angry at Harry,” Louis say shortly, ignoring the fact that Harry, Niall, and Zayn are all still sat in the room outside the booth, fiddling with their own phones and not trapped out in the hallway. He also isn’t thinking about that usually it’d be he and Harry stuck out here, after Paul’d run the _two_ of them out for being general menaces to society.

“Right.” Tiamat sits down at his feet in a decidedly dog like fashion. “So we’re out here why, then?”

Louis drops his phone back into one back pocket and lets out a very loud sigh, before nudging open the door and poking his head back inside the room. “If I promise not to make Liam laugh can I come back in?”

The boys go abruptly silent, Harry fiddling awkwardly with the hem of his t-shirt, and Fikirriya stuffing her tail in her mouth, but Paul only shakes his head a little before letting Louis back in.

In the booth, Liam doesn’t falter on any of his high notes, but Bethania’s eyes go a bit white around the edges.

Louis doesn’t stick his tongue out at them, because he’d actually like to get finished with recording as soon as possible. He plops down on the sofa right next to Harry, never mind that there really isn’t any space between him and Zayn.

Zayn lets him, only looking a little amused, and Tiamat collapses entirely on top of Harry’s feet and starts purring.

“Hi,” Louis whispers, cuddling a bit closer to Harry. Of course Harry goes a little rigid, more than a little confused, and instead of climbing into Louis’ lap like she would have prior to yesterday, Liana jumps down onto the floor.

Zayn starts inching away from the two of them with another amused eye roll, catching Niall’s eye over the top of their heads and starting a conversation about guitar chords for _What Makes You Beautiful_.

Harry doesn’t say anything.

Louis swallows, and turns to look at Zayn and Niall, who both look a little at a loss.

“So, how’s Payno doing then?” Louis asks, after a moment.

“Good.” Niall is the first to recover. “I mean he wasn’t failing before, or anything.”

“I think mostly Liam was discovering it’s impossible to sing and laugh at the same time,” Zayn adds dryly, shooting Louis an amused look.

Louis stares right back at him, because Zayn was the one who started making faces first. “Obviously he’s not cut out for working with us, then,” he says. “We should kick him out of the band.”

“You know how I feel about dogs,” Tiamat adds, good naturedly. She’s still on top of Harry’s foot, and doesn’t seem inclined to move.

“His hair _is_ starting to look to look like Hazza’s, now that you mention it,” Louis continues, pretending not to notice how Harry startles when he uses the nickname. “There can only be one curly-haired talent in a boyband, after all.”

“Curly-haired,” says Niall.

“Talent,” says Zayn.

“Is there an echo in here?” says Louis.

“Haz’s hair’s getting kind of long, though, innit?” Niall says, as if Louis hasn’t responded. “So maybe we should keep Liam and get rid of him.”

Louis wants to grab Harry and pull him in close to his chest, but he doesn’t think he’d be allowed. God, if only Harry wasn’t such a good person. Louis knows he’s been a right arsehole about everything. He knows he should actually apologize to Harry instead of practically climbing into his lap and demanding cuddles, but Tiamat is a cat, and Louis can’t help himself. He doesn’t think it’s a conversation to be having around the other boys, either.

“I think Harry’s curls are lovely,” Louis tells the room at large, just as Liam is stepping out of the booth and gesturing for Zayn to come take his turn. “[They make his ears look quirky](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/70605558184546304).”

Harry finally turns to look at him, looking a little pink around said ears, but mostly just looking uncertain.

“Which is a good thing,” Louis rushes to add, “because it makes him stand out. Like. Quirkiness is attractiveness.”

There’s a short pause.

“You’re right,” Tiamat says finally. “We’re not angry with Harry.”

And then both Niall _and_ Zayn are getting to their feet and rushing Liam back into the booth, leaving Paul to roll his eyes and step out of the room.

Louis debates inching over on the sofa, now that there’s room.

Harry drops an arm around him before he can. “You’re not angry with me?” he says.

“Of course they’re not angry with you,” Liana snaps, scampering up Harry’s legs and then climbing into Louis’ lap. “We’re angry with _you_.” She goes up on her hind legs and glowers at Louis. “You arsehole.”

“Liana!” Harry sounds aghast, but Louis just wants to laugh.

“No, she’s right,” he manages, palms itching to touch her. “I’ve been a real twat about things, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” says Tiamat, but she presses even closer to Harry; Louis can tell, because Harry’s jeans must ruck up a little so that she touches real skin, since he starts to feel warm around the edges.

Harry starts playing with the hem of his t-shirt again. “Louis, you can’t--” he starts to say, a bit helpless. “You can’t just shut me out--”

The door to the booth flies open.

“Sorry.” It’s Liam, looking genuinely sorry. “But we actually need you to do your bit, Lou.” He meets their eyes. “It’s getting late.”

Louis mentally berates himself for not talking to Harry before they got stuck on a time limit, but gets up to sing anyway.

\--

“What are you doing?” says Niall, and Louis nearly jumps out of his skin. “Is that a dictionary?”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Louis hisses, pulling Niall away from where Harry’s getting instructions outside the booth. Liana’s ears are better than Harry’s, and no doubt she’ll notice.

Niall doesn’t seem to get the memo. “Why’ve you got a dictionary?” he continues to ask, even as Louis makes another hushing noise and bounces on the balls of his feet.

“ _Niall_ ,” he complains. “It’s a secret.”

Niall looks down at Louis’ Swedish to English phrase book and then back up at him. “Your dictionary is a secret?” he says.

Louis punches him in the shoulder.

“Ow--Tommo!” says Niall, rubbing at his arm.

“What part of ‘it’s a secret’ don’t you understand?” Louis tells him, firmly. “Wanker.”

Niall stops rubbing at his arm and steps even closer, even when Louis starts scrambling away and trying not to trip over Eirian or Tiamat in the process. “What’re you looking up, anyway?” Niall wants to know. Eirian is definitely doing it on purpose, well aware that Louis wouldn’t dare shove her away, and Louis glares down at her when Niall gets the book from him.

“Wait, this isn’t a dictionary,” Niall realizes. “It’s a phrase book. Why’ve you got a Swedish phrase book open to the page on--” He flips the book around and stares down at it. “Are you learning how to say ‘I love you’?”

Louis debates putting his head in his hands. “No,” he decides to say.

“Yes,” Tiamat says. “Now give it back--we’re trying to be _romantic_ \--”

“Couldn’t you have just looked it up on your phone?” Niall interrupts, looking a little gleeful.

Louis decides to keep Niall out of the loop on what he’s started calling the ‘Deadly Day’ in his head (caps entirely necessary) for as long as is possible.

“Niall,” he says, taking the phrase book back with as much dignity as he can manage. “You obviously do not understand what it means to be romantic--”

“Who’s being romantic?” interrupts Zayn, rounding the corner with Liam in tow.

“Tommo’s learning how to say ‘I love you’ in Swedish for Haz,” replies Niall, even as Louis tries to speak over him.

“No one,” he repeats, after Zayn starts grinning ear to ear and Bethania’s tail starts wagging. “No one is learning anything--let’s go meet fans!”

He drags the three of them towards the entrance of the studio, Paul following behind them with a put upon sigh, and pointedly ignores their knowing looks when he ends up [reciting the three word phrase outside for the fans](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zivkDnC5gFA). Louis has a willing audience of people who will tell him if he’s butchering their language. (Harry would probably start crying, at which point Louis would start crying, and while he doesn’t doubt that would end up with them both apologizing, Harry wouldn’t have the heart to tell him if he’s got the phrase wrong.)

\--

Of course as luck would have it, Louis doesn’t get around to using his newfound knowledge on Harry in exactly the manner he would have liked. They get rushed out at the end of the day and ambushed by fans, who’ve brought them all white flowers, and who Louis spends precious time he could be apologizing to Harry smiling and signing autographs. Which isn’t a hardship--Louis loves all their fans, especially since they’re all so earnest and happy.

Tiamat loves the attention most, he thinks, since she gets to make menacing expressions and fake snarl for photos, like the initial promo shots Simon’s had them doing have her in. Liana in turn can’t seem to help herself and spends most of the fifteen minutes perched on top of Tiamat’s head making equally menacing expression every time anyone asks for a photo.

Louis isn’t sure, but he reckons that might have to do more with the guilty look he’d seen on Liam’s face earlier when Louis’d gotten out of the booth and found Harry pink in the cheeks and hiding a smile, than a sudden change of heart.

Either way, Louis gets through the signing without letting on that he knows that Harry knows he’s planning on apologizing to him in a very ridiculous and clichéd way. 

In the car ride back to the hotel, the other boys are busying themselves with their flowers and discussions of the latest trends on Twitter. They’ve opted to squish together in the middle row of seats, leaving Harry and Louis and Tiamat to squish together in the back, and while Louis is very grateful for the privacy, he’s also having a bit of a hard time breathing.

Because as soon as they’d gotten into the car, Harry’d grabbed Louis by the hand and hasn’t let go.

“Um,” Louis says quietly, after a long pause. “Is there a reason you’re holding my hand?”

Harry goes to let go of his hand like he’s been burned, the flush from earlier vanishing. “Do you not want me to hold your hand?” he asks, and his voice sounds much smaller than Louis’d been expecting.

He tightens his grip on Harry before he can pull his hand back. “No!” he says, louder than he’d intended.

In the very front, Nuada’s head swings back around to stare at the two of them, making Tiamat’s ears press flat to her head and everyone else’s daemons’ cower a little in response. Paul is definitely their Tour Dad, full stop.

“No,” Louis says again, suitably cowed. He waits for Paul’s daemon to turn back to the road in front of them. “No--I--why would you think that?”

Harry refuses to meet his eyes. “Well, I mean,” he starts to say, voice low and slow. “You haven’t really been speaking to me, lately.”

Louis swallows. “Harry,” he tries to explain.

“And the last thing we talked about was how--”

“Quirky your ears are?” Louis interrupts, nervously. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezes Harry hand again. “I like them, though.”

Harry sighs. “Louis,” he says, but he doesn’t seem too put upon. His lips are twitching again, and while he’s done an admirable job of looking bright and happy for the fans, Louis can tell that this is a real smile. More true than the other ones had been. He wonders if he should feel worried that at seventeen Harry is already well on his way to being far better than all of them at being famous.

He tightens his fingers again.

“No, I know.” Louis stares straight ahead at the back of everyone’s head’s, at Liam’s almost curls and Niall’s too bright bowl cut. Fi is blocking most of his view of Zayn, curled up around his neck like a protective scarf as she always is. Louis wonders if they’d ever be able to pose naked with their daemons, like he knows models are doing all the time. Tiamat’s a leopard, and while he’s always been afraid that she’d turn out something tiny and slow and would thus ruin all of his chances at being the next Beckham, he knows she’s attractive. And powerful. And impressive. Louis should try harder to be equally so. “Do you think I should wear contacts?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s mind to travel back to that moment outside the studio, before he’s tugging on Louis’ hand until Louis has to look at him.

“Lou,” he says, sounding pained. “Louis, I love you.”

Louis blinks.

Liana climbs off of Harry’s shoulders and settles into his lap, shoving her head up under his shirt.

“I love you too,” Louis tells him, confused. “But what does that have to do with--”

“Are you ashamed of me?” Harry says, still staring back at him, eyes big and green and oh so soft.

Louis nearly bites through his lip to keep from looking away. “No, of course not,” he says, and he’d address his lap, if Harry’s daemon wasn’t in it. If Harry’s soul wasn’t pressed up close to the skin of Louis’ stomach like she belonged there.

“Then what does it matter how you act?” Harry continues, and _oh._

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He’s reminded again of how _young_ Harry is, and of how old Louis himself has to be. Yes, Stan and his mum and Harry’s mum and Robin and Gemma all know that most of the X-Factor live tour was spent with Harry and Louis snogging their faces off. Yes, they had all been perfectly fine with that knowledge (Stan more so than the others, which had led to Tiamat sticking Acacia in her mouth and refusing to let her out till he stopped making crass remarks about Harry’s mouth.) But Louis knows better than to assume that’s how the world is--and Simon bloody Cowell has started talking about _America._

Harry’d retreated into himself when he was told not to wear a t-shirt declaring his love for Louis--Harry worries himself sick over comments on Twitter--Louis can’t be the reason that Harry Styles stops believing in the good of the world. To be perfectly over dramatic.

“We did want to go into theater,” Tiamat murmurs, unheard by the rest of the car. Louis wants to laugh, but he worries it’d come out as a sob.

“Right,” he tells Harry. “Yeah, of course.”

It’s not alright, but Louis will just have to be fine with it. He’s not about to ditch the stripes of the trousers or the glasses (although maybe he could faze those out?), but he’ll just have to be stronger. For Harry.

“Are you excited about the JSL premiere?”

Liana pokes her nose out the top of his t-shirt. “Yes,” she decides. “Are you?”

Louis leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of her head, and then has to hide his face to the side when Harry smiles brilliantly in response.

Later that night, when Harry’s in the shower, Louis pulls open Twitter, scrolls through his mentions and timeline, and composes Harry a tweet.

 _[Fancy going ballroom dancing?](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/70956884856815616) _ he tweets, half serious, heart pounding. Let it be public and confusing and gag inducing, as Zayn so kindly takes the time to tell him via text. Let him get dragged in for another telling off.

Harry’s response comes in nearly an hour later, when Louis’s given up watching him scroll through his email with his tongue between his teeth, and has convinced Tiamat to grab him clothing to throw at him.

“Louis,” Harry laughs, when Louis manages to get a pair of dirty boxers directly across his face.

“Bullseye,” Louis says, thrusting a hand up into the air. “Ten points for Louis The Tommo Tomlinson. I win.”

Harry turns to face him with the boxers still covering most of his face.

Louis is struck all of a sudden by just how much he loves this boy.

“How mature of you,” says Liana, from the foot of the bed. She’s curled up in the vee of Tiamat’s front paws, grooming what bit of her chest she can be arsed to reach. Louis throws a sock at her.

“Ten more points!” he cries, even as Liana ducks past the thing and it goes sailing off onto the floor.

Louis collapses back against the mattress and stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re such a wanker, Tomlinson,” says Liana. “Why do we even like you?”

“I’m amazing,” Louis replies, a hand to his heart, at the same time his phone beeps with a new tweet notification.

[ _i say we should old chap..away to it now??_](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/71160884445196289)Harry’s written, and when Louis turns to look at him, he’s still got the boxers clinging this his face. He’s also grinning, ear to ear, with dimples in full power.

Louis has to tackle him into the bed and hug him.

Harry goes with minimal complaint, mindful of his laptop, which he closes and sets next to them on the bed with a sigh, as Louis settles fully on top of him.

“Love you, Haz,” Louis mumbles into his chest. He doesn’t think Harry hears, but the sentiment must bleed through, because Harry’s fingers find their way into his hair. Louis can be strong for Harry; he’ll have to be.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /casually tapdances away from her Strong reference. Please don’t murder me.
> 
> The daemon master list is here on [tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) and the May masterpost is [hereeeeeee](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/90759314355/i-need-you-here-with-me-now-word-count-so). /shamelessly plugs. 
> 
> Do feel free to come say hi!
> 
> See you next time for June, which should hopefully be more punctual, superheroes permitting! :)


	6. June 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand nearly two months later…
> 
> I could do shoutouts or I could link you all to the fruits of my labors, so. [This](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/97517366940/a-1d-timeline-of-doom) is where the magic happened. This is where all my information has been put. This is how long the fic is going to be. (Going to 2014 and onwarddddd.) And the credits there are the amazing people who have helped make this possible. 
> 
> Betaed by Vic, Melanie, and Vikki. And Niamh. Because I am thorough. Britpicked by Vikki and Jess. All other mistakes are my own. ENJOY.

**June 2011**

\--

“You know the saying?” says Zayn, as Louis watches Harry and Niall be social. “Like a lioness with a cub?”

They’re standing off to the side, as inconspicuous as you can get when one of your daemons is a leopard, watching the ebb and flow of people around them. Harry’s off making the rounds with anyone and everyone in the room--Alex, Autumn, anyone on Alex’s team. He’s looking quite smashing in the stripy bottoms, which he’s wearing with pride. Louis’d like to think that he’s somehow managed to retain some manner of dignity, even though Liana had been proper smug about it when neither Louis nor Tiamat had said anything about the stripes. Liam, by contrast, had been proper offended, seeing as ‘you threatened to castrate me last time I tried to put on _socks_ with stripes, Tommo!’. As Louis’d explained to him, it wasn’t exactly a fair comparison, seeing as Harry was the love of his life. Liam had shut up when Louis’d threatened to suck his dick.

“ _Louis_ ,” says Zayn, accent particularly strong, snapping Louis right out of that train of thought.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know the saying?” Zayn’s the one sounding proper smug now, Fikriyya fluffed up around his neck as per usual.

Louis blinks and looks away from Harry, who he thinks has noticed Louis’ attention, if the faint smile around the edges of his mouth has anything to do with it. “What?”

“You’re like a lioness with a cub,” Zayn continues. “Or a leopardess, I suppose.”

Louis blinks at him a few more times. “What?”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Tiamat mutters, but Louis thinks she’d be blushing, if she could.

“You’re the leopardess,” Zayn keeps saying, unaware that he’s digging his own grave. “Harry is the cub.”

Tiamat’s ears press against her head and Louis licks his lips nervously. “What do you mean?” He shifts on the balls of his feet. “Is there something wrong with being a leopardess?”

“Still not a word,” repeats Tiamat, still under her breath.

Louis flicks her in the ear. “Also, what do you mean Harry is the cub? Harry’s more mature than the lot of you, I’ll have you know.”

It occurs to Louis as he’s speaking that he’s probably digging his own grave right next to Zayn’s, but he can’t seem to stop. It’s not his fault that Alex had gone off at Harry. Alex’s daemon, a peacock with a great long train that kept getting in Louis’ way for most of the twitcam, kept making snide remarks that Tiamat kept whispering back to Louis, and really, Liana is gorgeous. Like, Harry might be the beauty of One Direction (whatever the hell that means) but Liana isn’t ‘plain’. She’s lovely. So Tiamat might have swallowed a few of Alaois’ feathers. So what.

“Nearly [bit Alex’s head off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6GcSyLhrms&feature=youtu.be&t=9m04s), there, Tommo, is all I’m saying,” says Zayn.

So that, then. Louis glowers at him. “She was being mean,” he points out, frowning. “No one’s allowed to mess with Harry.”

Zayn shakes his head at him. “Right,” he says slowly. “Aren’t you two still fighting?’

Louis glowers at him some more; Tiamat grabs Fi by the tail and hauls her off Zayn’s shoulders so she can sit on her.

“No,” he says. “We’re fine.”

Tiamat nods, refusing to get off of Fi, even as Zayn’s daemon starts squirming and threatening to tell Liana.

“Niall--” she starts to wail when her threats do nothing, before Tiamat stops joking and is suddenly very serious.

“Public,” she hisses, eyes darting around the room.

“Sorry,” mumbles Fi.

No one’s noticed, most of Alex’s people caught up in whatever story Harry’s taking ages to tell, and--absolutely not.

Alaois seems to have recovered from the loss of tail feathers, circling Harry in a way that makes Louis’ skin itch, and trying to convince Liana off of Harry’s shoulder. He’s just being friendly--Alex is just being friendly, but just the other day, Louis’d overheard Paul discussing getting Harry a girlfriend, maybe, so it’s safe to say he’s on edge.

“It’s fine,” says Tiamat, licking Fi across the nose, but not getting off her, and Louis’ attention snaps back around.

Zayn’s looking at Louis with a fond half-smile on his face, lips quirked at the edges, arms crossed across his chest, and his eyes far too knowing.

Louis can’t quite help the way Tiamat’s shoulders hunch up and the fur on the back of her neck stands up.

“What?” he says. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“It’s kind of cute, actually,” says Zayn, ignoring him. “You’re full on mother bear.”

“Mother leopard,” chirps up Fi, like Tiamat isn’t sitting on her.

Louis shifts on the balls of his feet. “Shut up,” he tells Zayn. “You’d have done the same.”

“Well, yeah,” says Zayn, suddenly serious, and Louis is reminded of Harry three months back at Brighton, cornering Louis around the back of a Ferris wheel--Harry with his first bit of moderately bad press--Harry ill at rehearsals in the middle of week two at X Factor, clutching to Liana’s fur like a lifeline and insisting to Savan that he didn’t need to go to the hospital.

He swallows. “It wouldn’t have had the same effect if you’d done it,” he tells him, as if he’s still in control. “Fi’s like a very pretty ferret, yeah? Not all that intimidating.”

Tiamat makes a startled noise, definitely laughing. “A very pretty ferret,” she parrots back, sounding almost proud of Louis. “Wow.”

Louis extends a hand for a high five. “I’m particularly proud of that one,” he says, touching his hand to Ti’s paw. “Been thinking of it for ages.”

“Wow.” Tiamat swishes her tail a few times.

Zayn rolls his eyes at the both of them. “You’re hilarious,” he says. “The funniest.”

“I know,” says Louis, grabbing Zayn in an over exuberant hug. “We should start a trend on Twitter, or summat.” He’s pretty sure Fi’s eye starts twitching.

Zayn sighs again, but then switches it up and gives him a harder squeeze than Louis’d been expecting. “I do love you, Tommo. You know that, right?” he says quietly.

Louis blinks at him, a little confused. “Yeah,” he says, voice breaking a little in the middle. “Course.” He hugs him back some more, before pulling back, suspicious. “This isn’t some sort of ploy, though, right ‘cause--”

“Why would it be a ploy?” interrupts Fi, too quiet for anyone else to notice (if they were to, seeing as everyone seems distracted by laughing at whatever Niall’s been saying), as she wiggles free of Tiamat’s grip on her and kicks her in the face a few times for good measure.

“Ow,” says Louis’ daemon, but she’s definitely amused. She makes sure to kick Zayn in the leg a few times on their way over towards Harry.

“Mother leopardess!” shouts Zayn, like the little shit he is.

Louis flips him the bird.

“Real mature!” says Zayn.

Louis ignores him, slipping in next to Harry. “What’re we talking about?” he says, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder and staring around at them.

Alex and Autumn share a knowing, odd look, but Louis is very quickly distracted by Harry, who turns to look at him like the sun shines out of his arse. Which is flattering. And all Louis can think about is that time two mornings ago when they were lying in bed before sunup and Harry had started rambling on about Louis’ bum before his brain had woken up.

“I was just telling Alex about the album,” says Niall, looking not all that bothered by how Louis’ attention has snapped to Harry and Harry alone.

“Ah,” Louis says, nodding around for them all to continue (Zayn is definitely laughing at him from over in the corner, while on his phone).

Niall keeps going, talking about how cool it is to be recording with so many different people and how awesome Stockholm was that last time and how excited they are to be going back, but Louis only has eyes for Harry.

“Hey, love,” Louis murmurs, taking a rather perverse pleasure in the way Liana instantly goes tumbling off Harry’s shoulder and onto Tiamat’s back for cuddles.

Harry grins at him. “Hi, Lou,” he whispers back, folding an arm around Louis’ waist without pausing.

Alex and Autumn are watching the interaction with curious eyes, but for once Louis is going to take pride in this--in how close his and Harry’s daemons are. The media’s already caught onto how close all five of them are period, never mind the fact the multiple references to each other’s daemons that they’ve been encouraged to put up on Twitter (conveniently signed ‘T’, ‘L’, ‘F’, ‘E’, or ‘B’.) have only added fuel to that fire. It’s weird, being a celebrity in an age where the internet is point blank changing how fame works, but it’s kind of nice. A bit weird, but nice. Tiamat, at least, takes pleasure in reading out some of the truly horrific mentions to Liana before bed, which usually ends with Harry’s daemon tackling her into the bed and tickling her till it’s less about the embarrassment and more about being close to each other.

Alex clears her throat. Alaois fluffs up his feathers.

Louis reaches out and pinches Harry’s side. “So?” he says, grinning as Harry flails away from the tickling. “The album?”

Harry grins so hard it looks painful.

Louis’ cheeks don’t feel much better.

They’re definitely fine.

\--

The first sign that they’re not fine comes not a day later, in their very own, very much not anyone else’s, shared flat, while Louis is lounging across one of the sofas watching Harry make dinner. Technically speaking he’s supposed to be facetiming his mum, but Louis’d tuned most of their conversation out once Elpidius started lecturing Tiamat.

To be fair, Louis’d only just seen his mum earlier that day, as had Harry and the rest of the lads. And he’s scrolled through her Twitter feed more than enough to know that his mum is very much enjoying whatever he’s got going on with Harry. Which is not to say that his mum really _knows_ what he’s got going on with Harry, because Louis himself doesn’t really know what he’s got going on with Harry, only that he never wants it to stop.

Harry himself is bent over a cutting board with his tongue between his teeth. Liana isn’t anywhere in sight, but when Tiamat’s more sensitive ears go twitching off towards the kitchen and Harry’s head comes up disapprovingly, it becomes clear that she’s underfoot and causing a ruckus.

“Louis--”

\--And that’s his mum speaking _to him_ , so Louis’ attention snaps away from where Harry’s gone back to cutting vegetables and back towards his phone--

“--are you even listening to me?”

There’s a slightly too-long pause that would suggest no, he’s not, in which his mum purses her lips and frowns harder at him. Elpidius’ nose twitches.

“...Yes,” Louis says anyway, haltingly and trying to look innocent. When that doesn’t work, he glances around a bit frantically, eyes catching on the tiny image of himself on the screen. Which, okay, it’s been a long day of recording and slowly working himself into a frenzy because his voice sounds like shit no matter what people whose dicks he happens to be sucking on the regular have to say. Louis supposes he’s justified in looking as tired as he looks. He musses with his hair anyway. “Has my fringe looked like that this entire time?” he asks Tiamat, well aware of the fact that his mum isn’t buying what he’s trying desperately to sell.

“Yes,” says his daemon. She sounds about as convinced as their mum looks, but she’s playing along. Probably because Elpidius is still propped up on their mum’s head, cheeks fluffed out and tail lashing back and forth. He’s still no bigger than one of Louis’ hands, greyish-golden-brown, a _field mouse_ , and still one of the scariest things Louis’ ever seen.

When he puffs out one of those long breaths that usually means Louis’ in for a verbal lashing, Louis very frantically thumbs for the end call button, dropping his phone in his lap in the process.

“Louis,” says his mum’s disembodied voice, even as Louis himself fumbles around on the sofa searching for it so he can shut the thing off.

“Louis Tomlinson,” finishes his mum’s daemon’s equally disembodied voice. And then, at a slightly louder volume, “Tiamat.”

“Bye, mum!” Louis trills out frantically, grabbing his mobile and ending the call. He texts her that he loves her quickly, before locking the screen and stuffing the phone into his pocket.

When he looks up, Harry is watching him with amusement crinkling around the corners of his eyes, Liana perched atop his head like an oversized, fancy hat. There’s something slightly off around the edges of his mouth, though, and while he’d looked at Louis like he was glowing just that morning, he’s been just a smidge distant. Not enough that anyone would notice, though, besides Niall, who just _knows_ , and Zayn, who’s an arsehole and won’t shut up about it, and even Liam, who comes on too strong, more often than not.  But. Distant.

“What?” Louis throws an arm out and sprawls across their sofa in what he hopes is a convincing manner. He’s not sure what to do with the itch under his skin or the sudden nerves humming around in his belly. He puts his other hand on his hip and blinks up at Harry.

Harry blinks back at him. “Tell Jay hi for me,” is all he says, before he’s turning back towards their food.

Louis’ lips pinch together and he rolls himself to his feet. “You could tell her yourself, Harold,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. He’s still not sure why they’re in a mood to begin with--they were fine when he told Zayn they were fine. They _are_ fine.

“Mmmm.” Harry sounds distracted by whatever it is he’s doing in the kitchen, and doesn’t seem to really notice Louis’ moved until he’s hovering over him, mindful of the knife like anyone with four younger siblings would be. “Probably wouldn’t be alright if I did it on Twitter, though.”

Louis rests his chin on his shoulder and tries not to think about that. “Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging anyway. It’s hard not to press a kiss to the knob of Harry’s spine right next to his lips. “Not like you to care, Harold.”

Harry shrugs again, but sets down the knife, head dropping back a bit so that he fits more snuggly against Louis’ chest. “Are you going to fuck me, then?” he says.

Louis stops with his hands on the counter. That wasn’t exactly what he was going for when he snuck up on Harry--mostly he wanted to see if he could coax another one of those body-shaking laughs out of him before the sun had finished setting--but the slow twist of Harry’s hips has him rethinking.

“The day we say no to that is the day the world ends,” Tiamat says dryly, from around their feet.

“So two-thousand and twelve, then,” pipes up Liana, and the mood, whatever it may have been, very abruptly slows to a stop.

Louis would liken it to being in a quickly halting car, or getting flung into the air at a theme park; the sudden churn of his stomach agrees with him.

“We’re not going to die in twenty-twelve,” says Tiamat, flicking her tail back and forth and continuing as if Harry and Louis aren’t frozen nearly getting off in front of--Louis cranes his head around to look at what Harry’s cooked for them--carrots.

Hang on.

“Harold,” he whines, stepping back a little so that he can turn Harry around and better glower at him. “Why’re you making me _carrots_?”

Harry smiles at him, dimples pretty and prominent. “Do you not like carrots?” he asks, lacing his hands behind Louis’ neck. He ends up thumbing over the skin there in a mirror of Louis’ kiss from earlier, making Louis jump and ache and want to ride him right next to the damned carrots. “I thought you did. I saw a video of you on Youtube. Done up in a _carrot_ suit.”

“I remember that, yeah,” puts in Liana, climbing up onto Tiamat and grinning at the two of them. “Was that not you--how many popstars from Doncaster do we know?”

Louis reaches around her and grabs one of the still uncut carrots to throw at her. “I hate you,” he says.

“Louis, no,” cries Liana, flattening herself dramatically against Tiamat’s back. “Don’t turn your one-true love into weapons.”

“I’m going to murder you, and then my one-true love will be no more by proxy,” Louis replies, shifting a bit in Harry’s grip.

Harry visibly lights up. “I’m your one-true love,” he says, positively glowing.

“Yes, Harry,” Louis tells him, antsy under the attention. “Who I will be killing.”

“No you won’t.” Harry drops his hands down Louis’ back to his bum, which he fondles for quite a bit longer than Louis thinks is necessary, before dragging Louis in close to him. “Because you love me.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him and leans in closer. The movement puts him up slightly on his toes, which is almost enough to startle him, actually, since Harry’s getting bloody tall. “No,” he says. “I hate you.” He manages to make his face stay stern for all of five seconds, like they didn’t [get another carrot costume from a fan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTEGA9MBEFY) and they don’t have terrible pictures saved on their phones of the two of them re-enacting the tragic love story of carrot-Romeo and turnip-Juliet, never mind the fact they were both rather obviously carrots.

Harry looks incredibly convinced, grinning wide enough to reach both ears and sneaking his hands up under Louis’ t-shirt. Probably he knows exactly where Louis’ mind has gone. In fact he definitely does, because two seconds later Louis is fighting his way back towards their sofa having been unceremoniously spun around and flung towards their oven, while shouting for Tiamat to get his phone before Harry can.

“But Louis!” It’s possible Louis’ got a hand up Harry’s nose, but he really doesn’t care. “You’re so cute in those photos!”

“Shut up!” Louis shouts, straining a bit and climbing up onto Harry’s back. “Shut up--there are no photos--!”

“They are pretty cute,” Tiamat concedes, from where she’s sat _right next to Louis’ mobile_ with her tail lashing back and forth. “I think mum would like them.”

“Mum would _frame_ them!” Louis wails, trying not to shiver when the finger up Harry’s nose ends up in his mouth, and Harry can’t quite help but nearly bite down around it. He wants to tell him to be careful, to watch his teeth, and then he’s thinking about blowjobs.

“Put them on her Christmas cards,” says Liana, sounding pleased. “Send them to all her friends.”

She exchanges a gleeful look with Tiamat and starts scrabbling against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “ _Put them on_ Facebook--”

And Louis really has no other options but to throw himself off of Harry and towards Harry’s daemon and also incidentally the cold, hard, floor. He lands with all the grace of someone who played football for most of his childhood, managing to try out that slapping the ground thing Lottie’d been on about after their mum sent her off to self defense classes. It doesn’t seem to do shit, leaving Louis bruised, aching, and Harry with his hands on his knees howling laughing at the fact that Louis’ first reaction to hitting the ground had been to hit himself in the face.

“Harold,” he says with as much dignity as he can manage, still sprawled out next to Liana, who appears frozen. “It is not that funny.”

“Oh my God,” Harry gets out, between giggles, red in the face. “Oh my God--you just--” He breaks off, one arm swinging around in the air in a mockery of Louis. “You just--hit--the fucking--” He’s starting to look like he’s in pain.

“Yes,” Louis tells him, unimpressed. “And the next time your gangly arse decides to try walking around on less than dry ground, you’ll be thanking me for this, because you won’t be dead or suffering from several broken limbs.” He lifts his head. “And I’ll laugh at you. And demand we go ice-skating for my birthday.”

Harry shakes his head at him, cheeks still faintly pink. “Your twentieth birthday, you mean,” he says smugly. “The last one you’ll ever have as a young, youthful, teenager.”

Louis rolls his eyes at him and better sprawls against their floor. “Right, so...those all mean the same things,” he says. “And also shush. We cannot all be young children, Harold.”

“Not a child, Lou,” says Harry, voice coming closer. He stops directly above Louis, staring down at him with that same, too-concentrating look on his face.

Louis blinks up at him, white spots flickering behind his lids from staring at the ceiling light for too long. “No,” he agrees, thinking back to Harry’s birthday, and Harry very quietly refusing to budge on chorus arrangements back when they’d started recording and Louis wasn’t quite sure about his singing period, never mind solos.

“Mmmhmmm,” Harry hums. Louis has only a few seconds to realize that his smile is more than a little devious, before Harry is settling himself atop him, quite literally.

“Harry,” Louis says around the mouthful of curls.

“Yes, Louis?” says Harry, sounding faraway and entirely too pleased with himself.

And, like, Louis was going to mention that Harry is far too bony and far too squirmy and he did just fling himself at the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms up around Harry’s waist, rucking up his t-shirt so that he can tickle his sides, before flipping them over so that they’re essentially spooning in the middle of the floor.

Harry lets him be the big spoon with minimal complaint, making a pleased humming noise when Louis noses in behind his ear and just breathes. “Nothing,” he tells one of the looser, springer curls near his mouth.

Harry hums again. “Right,” he says, reaching back to grab one of Louis’ hands and dragging it up to press against his chest. Against his heart, Louis realizes, as the steady, thump-thump of it makes the tension bleed out of his shoulders. There’s quite a bit of tension, seeing as he had essentially flung himself at the ground; Harry’s heart is doing wonders for it, though.

“You should be a chiropractor,” Louis tells him, mumbling and aware that he makes absolutely no sense.

“I could be _your_ chiropractor,” Harry retorts, thumbing once over Louis’ wrist and reaching up to lace their fingers together. He’s got his own phone out with the other one and Louis can see the light of it as he fiddles with it, right next to Louis’ hand. He has no idea what he’s doing--probably tweeting--but he just squeezes Harry’s hand tighter.

“Yes, because smothering me on the floor with your bony arse is the perfect way to loosen me up,” Louis says dryly, and then winces when Harry twists around to look at him all shiny. “Shut up.”

Harry grins. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, like he hadn’t been working out the perfect way to segue into a discussion about loosening Louis up.

Louis leans forward and bites him on the back of his neck. “Liar.”

Harry whines, taken aback and definitely startled, hips rocking back into the cradle of Louis’ thighs. “You’re like a cat,” he says breathlessly, as Louis licks over that same spot, pressing quick kisses there and debating whether or not he really wants to give Harry such a noticeable lovebite.

“A leopard, actually,” Louis says into his skin, pulling back before he leaves too much of a mark. “Right, Ti?”

Tiamat makes a startled noise, head popping up from where she’s now curled up on the sofa with Liana and Louis’ mobile. “Hmm?”

Louis narrows his eyes at them.

“I don’t know your passcode,” says Harry’s daemon, after a pause, setting down the phone and pushing it away from her. “Also I am not good with my hands.”

“I’m a leopard,” Tiamat says helpfully, before Louis is exchanging a quick, horrified look with Harry and leaping at the both of them.

Harry joins them once Liana goes down swinging, yowling loudly at the ceiling as Louis ends up nearly squishing her against the cushions, swearing loudly and telling Tiamat to drop his phone now.

“iPhones don’t grow on trees, Ti!” says Louis, straining to keep Harry’s full weight from pressing his daemon further into the sofa. “We’re not that rich!”

Liana ends up in his shirt, claws tickly against his skin and fur sticking out around his neck.

“I dunno, Louis, maybe the whole Apple thing is code,” says Harry, shoving his hands in to grab his daemon. He pulls her free of Louis’ shirt after a longer than necessary grope to Louis’ nipples that leaves Louis distracted and aching and very confused.

Tiamat drops his phone somewhere next to his head.

Louis doesn’t really care, anymore. They haven’t had the daemon sex conversation, but then, do they really need to?

“Apples do grow on trees, right?” Harry is saying to Liana, sounding pleasantly confused.

“Yes, Harold,” says his daemon, rolling her eyes.

“Killing the mood.”

“What mood?” Harry asks, before Louis flips over so that his back is against the cushions.

Harry is frozen over him with Liana in his arms, and Louis drops one hand down to his cock, and the other over towards Harry’s hand. The look on Harry’s face when he drags it up to play with Tiamat’s ears is something Louis isn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon.

“Lou,” Harry says, voice reverent. “Are you sure?”

“Mmmm.” Louis just directs him to the spot right behind Tiamat’s right ear that he discovered at sixteen home alone and scared shitless that one of his sisters or god forbid his _mum_ was going to come home to find him trying out the bottle of lube Stan had passed him in class. His skin feels hot and too tight and smothering but in a good way, the butterflies from before fluttering around and making him break out into a near sweat. Probably that’s more to do with the curl of arousal unfurling in his belly, though, making his breath come in pants and his vision fuzzy. He gets a hand down to the line of his jeans, fussing with the button and then giving up when he can’t quite get it open.

Harry’s fingers are tortuous, moving in slow circles along the rim of Tiamat’s ears, pressing against the delicate skin there like an explorer. He’s pretty sure of himself, because it doesn’t take long for him to be batting Louis hand’s away so that he can explore the rest of her face, stroking along the bridge of her nose and around her cheekbones. “Could you come from this?” he says, considering.

Louis whines, eyes startled back open and hips rocking up into his hand. “Why?” he pants out, well aware he sounds absolutely wrecked. “You going to make me?”

Harry stops stroking Tiamat’s face and drops his hand back to take hold of the scruff of her neck, where the skin is loose and pliant from when she was a baby. But Tiamat was never a leopard  baby--Tiamat was born a bear, and from then she was every animal in her repertoire until Louis was eighteen years old meeting the love of his life on X-Factor.

Harry’s said something. Louis has no idea what it is.

“Just from this, I mean,” Harry says, probably again, curling and uncurling his fingers in Tiamat’s fur and giving the skin a slight tug. “Nothing else.”

Louis risks a look to his shoulder, where Liana is flopped out and watching the both of them blissfully, eyes darting between Tiamat and Louis quick as you like.

“Louis.”

Louis’ eyes snap back to Harry’s face. “Maybe,” he gets out. “I dunno--I’ve never--” He breaks off, groaning when Harry lets go of his daemon to bat his hands away from his cock. “Fuck,” he says, staring at nothing. “Fuck-- _maybe_ \--”

Harry makes another considering noise, before leaning down to kiss him.

And like, Louis really thinks they need to have the daemon-sex conversation because the ensuing, mind-blowing orgasm combined with the feeling of Harry’s fingers petting _over his bloody soul_ is something Louis wants to be reliving for years to come.

Needless to say, he doesn’t get a chance to see what Harry’s done on his phone until much later, and by the time he can, Harry’s already asleep, snoring gently in Louis’ ear, while Louis frowns down at the lyrics he’d sent out to the world.

“[I wish I was a punkrocker with flowers in my hair](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/76735969981759489),” says Tiamat, quietly, into the silence around them. “When the head of state didn’t play guitar, and not everybody drove a car.”

Harry snuffles against Louis’ neck in his sleep.

“When music really mattered and when radio was kind. When accountants didn’t have control and the media couldn’t buy your soul.”

“We’re fine,” Louis interrupts, before she can keep going. “We’re fine.”

His daemon stares back at him, eyes glowing in the dark, and Louis shuts off his phone and twists around to bury his face in Harry’s curls.

\--

They don’t get a spare second to talk about it for the next few weeks, stuck travelling and recording and pointedly _not_ discussing the elephant in the room. Louis’ taken to staring at Harry in a way that probably isn’t helping matters; Tiamat says he keeps making a ‘face’, whatever that means, Zayn just shakes his head at him, Niall either hasn’t noticed or isn’t saying anything, and Liam’s no help because he’s so enamoured with Danielle and Danielle’s daemon that if Louis has to hear one more thing about Terpsichore or even just cats in general, Louis just might murder his bandmate.

“It’s not like I’ve never met anyone with a cat daemon before,” Louis is in the middle of telling Harry, sprawled across their bed in the hotel staring up at their ceiling again. It’s well past midnight and they’ve all retired to their hotel rooms with strict instructions to get some sleep, but Louis isn’t tired. He’s not walking on eggshells around Harry either; he’s annoyed enough at Liam that whatever residual weirdness from Harry’s Twitter crisis and their conversation last month aren’t as important. “Hell--Gemma’s got a cat daemon.”

Tiamat’s ears twitch, because despite the size difference, she distinctly remembers the glare Gaspar had leveled at them both when Gemma had been putting the fear of God in them for daring to fall in love with her baby brother.

Harry makes a humming noise, obviously not too concerned, and sticks his tongue out at his laptop.

“Also _I’ve_ got a cat daemon,” Louis continues, throwing his hands towards the ceiling and glaring harder. “I think I know a thing or two about hairballs.”

Tiamat stops grooming her paws and glares at him.

“They’re not pleasant.”

Harry hums again, still frowning at his laptop.

Louis reaches out and kicks him gently in the side. “Oi,” he says. “Styles.”

Harry looks up.

“You don’t think Tiamat hacking up hair is attractive, do you?”

Harry blinks at him, startled, and Louis stares back at him expectantly. He’s not sure if he should really go around comparing him and Harry with Liam and Danielle, mostly because ever since that time he nearly walked in on the two of them exchanging spit he’s taken to pretending there _is_ no Liam and Danielle, but also because something about the way Bethania slinks around Terpsichore bothers him. Also, Louis’ perfectly aware of just how disgusting it is to watch your soul hack up fur, and obviously Bethania and Liam are delusional.

Liana pokes out from where she’s nestled inside the front of Harry’s t-shirt and says, point blank, “Louis, I love you, but nothing about Tiamat and fur balls is attractive.”

“Aw.” Louis blows a tiny kiss over towards Harry’s daemon. “Li, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” He flicks his eyes back down towards his laptop, which he’s got sat on his belly keeping him warm, to where Liam’s been wishing [Danielle a happy birthday on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/78968217351094273) as well.

“Mmm,” says Harry, glancing back down towards his own laptop. His curls are falling lazily into his eyes, and really all of them should be sleeping, but Harry’s checking his email and Louis’ ranting at the ceiling, and Liam is tweeting three xs for his girlfriend back home. It’s been a long day.

“You’re welcome,” says Liana, in response to Louis. She worms her way free of Harry’s shirt and pads across the bed towards Louis, making sure to smack Harry in the face with her tail a few times as she goes.

Harry just blows the fur out of his face before giving his fringe a shake, curls flying around before he reaches up a hand to shove them into place.

Louis ends up staring at him, again, while Tiamat jabs him in the side with a paw and starts nattering on about ‘his face’ again.

He glances back down at the laptop, intent on clicking on Liam’s most recent tweet so that he can continue his hairball induced rant, and stops.

‘[Why can’t I have a clone for times like these :(](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/78969451516661761),’ Liam’s gone and tweeted, in response to what Louis very quickly realizes is hate.

And like, none of them are strangers to Twitter hate by _any_ means, but Liam more than the rest of them seems particularly prone to taking the near-anonymous ramblings of random strangers on the internet to heart. He’d told Louis once that he couldn’t help but google himself, at which point Louis had confiscated his phone and refused to give it back for almost an entire day, which hadn’t really helped matters, since Louis and Liam had _not_ got on at the beginning, and they were in the middle of filming the X-Factor. He and Liam are much closer now, but Louis can’t help but remember the look on Liam’s face, the not-quite resignation that had him shoving a hand into his trousers and racing down the hall with his mobile.

At his side, Tiamat hums, claws catching in the duvet, as her tail lashes back and forth, and Louis is reminded suddenly of that time someone _dared_ to be mean to Lottie, and Tiamat had discovered it was perfectly possible for a daemon to be a mythological creature.

His jaw clenches reflexively and he shuts the laptop, pulls out his phone, and fires off a group text to Niall and Zayn. The two of them are sharing the other double, Liam having won the single by virtue of him being the most awake off the plane, and also the fact that he had spent most of that plane ride talking everyone’s ear off about hairballs. Louis is like eighty percent certain Zayn’s not sleeping yet, but if he is, he’s essentially dead to the world, and Niall, well; Niall continues to complain about every little creak of Harry and Louis’ bed. Even if he’s two rooms down or in Ireland.

 _Group hug in Li’s room in five_ , Louis sends, before dropping the phone next to his discarded laptop, and rolling so that he’s sprawled across Harry’s back, looking over his shoulder at his laptop screen, chin digging into the junction behind his ear.

“Hazza,” he says, blowing a little to watch the way Harry shivers. “What’re you doing?”

Harry very slowly lifts his fingers off the keys. “Things,” he says, and Louis feels entirely justified in poking him hard in the soft bit just under his ribs.

Harry squirms, twisting around on the bed, and Louis very kindly makes sure he’s not got anything important open before shutting his laptop and shoving it off towards the pillows so that Harry doesn’t hit his head on it when he goes to roll over. They end up facing each other, Harry on his back with Louis sprawled across his front, hips pressed together and lips inches apart. He looks remarkably smooth for someone who’s the most dressed in the room, seeing as Louis’ only managed to pull on some trackie bottoms after their shower, before the two of them had gotten distracted by the internet. After a moment, Harry reaches down to grab the hem of his top, pulls it over his head, and tosses it off towards the floor.

There’s a beat.

Louis blinks.

Harry smirks.

Never let it be said that Harry Styles isn’t smooth; never let it be said that Louis Tomlinson doesn’t know what he’s thinking three seconds before he does it.

“I’m not busy anymore, though,” Harry says, lips quirking. He’s very sure of himself for a seventeen year-old, but then, Harry’s always been sure of himself where Louis is concerned. Nothing Liana or Niall or even Harry himself tells him about his emotional struggle through a good half of September and most of October before their first kiss on the X-Factor is going to convince Louis otherwise. Not when he’s got Harry spread out beneath him, eyes glinting green around blown pupils, with his hands lifted up above his head. “If you were wondering,” Harry adds, glancing off towards Liana. “If you wanted...” Harry trails off and Louis swallows. Hard.

They haven’t had time to do more with the whole daemon-sex...thing, to the point where Harry’s starting to get antsy, seeing as Louis’ got two orgasms to his zero, having spent part of their most recent flight to Sweden in a plane toilet while the rest of the boys watched a film. And like, Louis would love to even that score, really, since Harry has the perfect mouth for biting and kissing and there’s nothing Louis loves more than the glassy look he gets in his eyes when Louis is just an _edge_ too rough with him.

But they can’t right now, because it’s 1 AM and two rooms down Liam Payne is beating himself up about Twitter hate.

“Lou?” Harry looks concerned, dropping his hands back down from up above his head, and frowning. “Are you alright? I wasn’t--I don’t want to presume--if you’re not ready--”

Louis kisses him, because he’s definitely ready. So ready, the readiest, but, Liam.

Liam--and Harry, whose mouth tastes amazing, and whose hands feel amazing, and who is getting more than a little confident, and keeps running his hands up and down Louis’ lower back and gripping at his arse. Harry’s hips are rocking up of their own accord, as they always do when Louis gives into temptation and snogs him senseless, and it takes all of Louis’ willpower to pull away.

Over on his side of the bed, his phone buzzes with a new text, probably from Niall.

“People are being wankers to Liam on Twitter,” he tells Harry in one great gust, aware of the fact that most of his breath is still caught somewhere in Harry’s lungs. “So, like, group hug?”

Harry blinks up at him a few times, before his jaw clenches. “Mean?”

“Mean,” Louis agrees. “So we’re gonna go smother him with love.”

He leans in for one last kiss, this one pressed to the tip of Harry’s nose, before he’s getting to his feet and reaching down to adjust himself in his trackies.

Harry lies on the bed for a few more seconds, blinking, before getting to his feet as well.

“Clothes,” says Liana, when Harry moves to head for the door. She crawls up Harry’s arm and up around his shoulders with the practice of having been doing it for seventeen years. “Something tells me Liam won’t appreciate being comforted by us if we’re in our boxers.”

“And have a boner,” adds Tiamat, as she slips off the bed to stand next to Louis, who’s reaching for his phone.

 _Tommmmmoooooooo_ , Niall’s responded to his message. _Where r u?_ _Liam’s not letting us in_.

 _Niall’s afraid to knock_ , Zayn’s added, and Louis spares a quick moment to cackle, before catching the t-shirt Harry chucks at him and pulling it on. It’s quite a bit more worn than the shirts Louis is used to, and while he likes the Rolling Stones well enough, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t actually got any t-shirts with them on it. So it’s Harry’s, and Louis’ stomach is butterflies again. Of course, Louis doesn’t have time to think about that, because Harry is already opening the door to their hotel room and striding towards Liam’s room, Tiamat at his side.

Liana’d jumped off his shoulders sometime when they started dressing, so she pads back towards Louis, who scoops her up into his arms and goes racing off after Harry, who is standing front of Niall and Zayn outside Liam’s door with his eyebrows raised.

“Jesus, Haz,” Louis hisses, as they reach the rest of them. “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

Harry just blinks back at him, unfazed. “I knew you’d look after her,” he says, in a surprising show of self-awareness. “You always do.”

The ‘look after me’ is left unsaid, but Louis hears it loud and clear. He swallows, suddenly aware of the fact that Harry is far more observant than his dimples and curls would suggest.

“Mate, don’t do that,” Zayn interjects, and this is why he’s Louis’ second favorite. “It’s fucking weird.”

“What’s weird?” Liana twists around in Louis’ arms until she can better stare at the three of them.

“It looks like Harry’s got a leopard daemon,” says Niall, gesturing over to where Harry and Tiamat appear to be discussing the merits of unlocking Liam’s door with the room key Louis nicked off him earlier that night. (Again. Waxing poetic about hairballs.)

“And Lou’s got an otter,” finishes Zayn. “It’s fucking _weird_.”

Louis hugs Liana a bit closer to himself. “I dunno,” he says. “Otters are playful, right? I’m playful.”

Harry stops muttering to Tiamat and lifts his head, a flush high on his cheeks.

Louis stares back at him, mouth slowly going dry, as Harry licks his lips. He hadn’t meant that kind of playful--more like, I have the most younger siblings and also I love children--but he’s not opposed to whatever dirty tangent Harry’s brain is on. Louis would follow Harry’s brain anywhere.

“Anyway!” Zayn’s voice is considerably higher. “Liam?”

“Liam,” Louis agrees, shaking himself out of it, before nodding to Harry to open Liam’s door.

Liam is sat up in bed with the lamp on and his laptop across his lap frowning over at Bethania, who’s curled up in a ball somewhere near the pillows. It’s the first time Louis’ ever really thought about it, but Beth isn’t a full grown dog, strictly speaking, and the puppy in her has never been more present.

When the door swings open, Liam honest-to-God lifts up his laptop like a weapon, before staring at the four of them with his mouth open and eyes wide.

“Yo.” Zayn is the first of them to break the sentence. “Leeyum, bro. What’re you gonna do with that? Brain me to death?”

“Laptops are actually quite heavy,” says Bethania, from her place next to Liam. She uncurls a little so that she looks less like a lump and more like a daemon. “So, like, we’d be fine.”

“Yeah, but there’s four of us, Paynette, so keep up,” says Louis, striding further into the room and eyeing Liam’s bed. “We’ve definitely got strength in numbers.”

“Paynette,” says Liam.

“So I [stalked your twitter](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/24597943640),” says Louis. “What of it.”

“Paynette,” Liam repeats.

Louis turns to Harry for help.

“I, um, I’m quite a good cook?” says Harry, out of nowhere.

Louis fights back a reflexive smile.

“I play guitar,” says Niall, raising his hand, and then smiling when Louis goes to high five him. “So like, yeah.”

“What the hell does guitar have to do with kidnapping Liam--?”

“Wait I thought we were murdering Liam--?”

“We could do both--?”

“Lads!” Louis raises his voice to be heard over the three of them, who close their mouths guiltily. “None of us is killing Liam.” He pauses. “Or kidnapping him.”

“Thanks,” Liam says dryly, with only a touch of hesitance. He’d almost sound normal, if it weren’t for the way he hasn’t stopped clutching at his laptop, and the fact that Bethania’s tail hasn’t wagged once.

Louis heads over to the bed and plops down next to him, taking one look at Liam’s laptop screen, and shutting it. “Payno,” he says. “What kind of failure of a kidnapper do you take me for.”

Liam blinks at him, still not quite smiling, and the rest of the lads head over and join them on the bed with minimal prompting.

Harry ends up nearly in Louis’ lap, Niall delicately avoids squishing Bethania by curling around Liam from behind, and Zayn stares unimpressively at the five of them until Liam’s daemon and Liam’s legs move enough for him to have most of the bed.

“This is a queen sized bed,” says Liam, after a while.

“At least it’s not a twin,” says Harry, eyeing the daemon pallet that Liam’s stuck haphazardly against the wall by the loo. They’re standard issue for most hotel rooms, large enough for most large mammal daemons but comfortable enough for bird daemons. Louis’ not seen any of the stuff put in for people who’ve got horse daemons, although he had heard the tail end of one of Paul’s talks with Niall about hooves and hotels. Neither Harry nor Louis have ever used them, much preferring waking up covered in daemon and boy than waking up cold and alone. And they don’t have to keep up pretenses with the lads.

“None of us are twins, this is true,” says Louis, tightening his grip around Harry’s waist a little.

He can’t see Harry’s face, but he can almost physically feel him smile, the way he lights up in the room thrumming through every facet of Louis’ skin. To be poetic. And, like, romantic.

“You’re the _most_ romantic,” mutters Tiamat, from where she’s settled on the floor next to them.

Only Liana and Fikriyya have dared crawl up on the bed, and while Fi’s hesitantly sat next to Zayn, Liana spares no thought to decency before she’s climbing all over Bethania, batting at her ears and flopping across her nose so she can’t breathe.

“Are you sad?” says Harry’s daemon, not for them. “Don’t be sad.”

Louis very pointedly stops listening and focuses instead on Niall, who’s in the middle of declaring, “Well Liam and I have the same middle name so we’re automatically twins.”

Niall doesn’t let go of where he’s more strangling Liam than hugging him, but he does let up a little when Liam makes a choking noise.

“Right, Liam?”

“Right,” Liam says hoarsely. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

When Niall says nothing, he turns to Louis, who stops playing with Harry’s hair guiltily. “What?” he says, also guiltily. “I can’t always be Daddy Direction.”

Zayn lifts his head off the bed to stare at him. “You’ve never been Daddy Direction,” he says. “Liam’s Daddy Direction.”

“Daddy Direction is sad,” adds Niall.

“Can we please stop saying ‘Daddy’?” says Liam, sounding a bit pained, and considerably less on the verge of tears. In fact, Louis would wager to say that he’s even smiling, barely.

“Would Lou be the mum, then?” says Niall.

“Absolutely not,” Louis and Liam chorus, at the same time.

“First of all I’m not marrying Payno,” says Louis, grinning at Liam. “Because, ew. It’d be like marrying my brother.”

Liam’s smile lights up the room, before he manages to catch it and try to hold it in.

“Second of all--”

“If Lou’s the mum Harry’s his baby,” interrupts Zayn.

“Couldn’t Lou just be the other dad?” says Harry, quietly. When Louis stops tugging on his curls, he turns his head into his hand like a cat of some sorts.

Liana has stopped whispering in Bethania’s ears and returns to the two of them, pawing gently at Louis’ arm a few times before slipping off the bed to join Tiamat. When she starts whispering to _her_ , Louis feels that, like fingers playing around the edges of his consciousness.

“Obviously Harry and Louis are mum and dad,” Niall appears to be in the middle of saying when Louis tunes back in. “Look at them.”

Liam, Zayn, and Niall all pause to look at the two of them.

Louis looks right back at them, still petting with Harry’s hair. He stops abruptly. “What?”

“Nothing.” Zayn’s poker face is unparalleled. “Nothing, just. You’re kind of...”

“Sickeningly sweet,” finishes Liam. “Like--the married kind of sickeningly sweet.”

“But cute,” adds Niall. “You’re full on married--like touching each other’s daemons, no secrets married. It’s cute.”

Harry’s gone a bit still in his lap, but Louis pays him no mind. “Well they don’t call us Larry Stylinson for no reason, you know,” he says, wrapping his arms better around Harry’s waist. “Right, Haz?”

“See.” Niall points at the two of them. “Cute.”

Louis shakes his head at him, opening his mouth to tell him he said that already, but before he can, Harry’s pulling away from his fingers, suddenly less than cuddly, and sprawling across the Niall-Liam pile. He wriggles around until he’s sort of on top of Zayn as well, before pressing a smacking kiss to Liam’s free cheek. “You’re alright, yeah, Li?”

Liam smiles again, equally lit up, but softer. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, quietly.

“Lou?” Harry turns to Louis expectantly, like he didn’t just pull away from him mid declaration of love.

“Group hug,” says Zayn, from underneath the two of them. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Louis sighs, takes in their identical, expectant faces, and sets aside whatever weird thing that’s going on with Harry. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he says. “Patience is a virtue.”

Liam makes a loud barking laugh, seemingly unable to help himself before Louis is elbowing his way across his stomach and covering his face in kisses. Of course, doing so ends up disrupting whatever peace they’ve managed on the bed, so Niall and Harry go sliding off the side and Zayn manages to avoid all damage in the ensuing scuffle.

“You’re really okay?” Louis asks Liam, quietly.

“Yeah,” says Liam, watching the way Harry seems to avoid Louis’ eyes. “Are you?”

Louis doesn’t answer.

\--

They’ve just got off a flight from Sweden to London to LA for even more recording and Louis is bored out of his mind.

When they first got to Sweden, [Harry’d](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/80298033388060672) made Louis some divine [eggs Benedict](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/80308906819203072); Niall had decided to be an arse about that on Twitter, so Louis had chased him around the hotel room with a broom as payback. (So what if the noise Louis made when he’d eaten them was near pornographic--at the end of the day, Niall had been the one with ‘[no niall too far](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/81027123011260416)’ written across his forehead in permanent marker.)  Since then, [Louis cut himself shaving](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/80305857384030208), Tiamat and Liana have destroyed three basketballs, [and Harry’s walked into a door](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/81244205778870272).

In short, Sweden/LA had been an experience.

Currently, Louis is sprawled across Harry’s bed (which is unofficially Louis and Harry’s bed), which he’s been ‘keeping warm for him’ for the past ten or so minutes while the younger lad is busy in the loo, or something. Tiamat is on the floor between the two beds, sighing mindlessly while Louis yawns to himself and tries not to vibrate out of his skin. [Because they were in the studio with Andrew Frampton](https://twitter.com/NiallOfficial/status/81888286360088576). Of The Script. Whom Louis saw live in 2009.

It’s kind of a big deal.

“Lou.” Harry’s voice floats out of the loo, muffled by the toothbrush he’s using. “You’re going to break the bed.”

Louis glances down at his jiggling leg and tries to get it to stop. “Come now, Hazza,” he says, managing to sound remotely calm. “We’ve got to keep up pretenses--can’t have the lads think we’ve not got an engaging sex life.”

Harry pokes his head around to glare at him, toothbrush stuck out one side of his mouth, and frowns at him.

Louis feels the corners of his lips perk up into a smile.

Tiamat makes a pained noise on the other side of the bed.

“What?” Louis rocks the bed pointedly, so that it knocks into the wall a little, and then does it a few more times for good measure.

“Louis.” Harry takes a quick gulp of water and spits it out into the sink. “We’re not having sex tonight.”

Louis considers whining about it. He settles for rocking the bed a bit more. “I know, Harold,” he says. “Which is why I’m keeping up a pretense.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him, rinsing out his mouth one last time, before padding across the floor so that he’s stood in front of the hotel bed.

Louis’ up and on his knees in front of him before he can help it, hands clenching and unclenching against the fabric of his pajama pants. “Did you know I saw The Script?” he says quickly.

Harry grins. “Yeah, Lou,” he says. “You’ve said.”

Louis fights a smile. He’s been saying it all day, between takes, to anyone who would listen, because he really can’t believe some of the people they’re getting to work with. “Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “It was bloody awesome.” It had been.

Harry reaches out to rest his hands on Louis’ shoulders, grinning when Liana goes scampering down his bare arm to curl around Louis’ neck like a scarf. “I saw them as well, you know,” he says.

Louis is in the middle of attempting to blow Liana’s tail off of his face with his breath alone, but he stops abruptly. “What”

“Yeah.” Harry’s fingers come trailing up the back of Louis’ neck to rest over his daemon. “In, like, 2009, I think?” His brow furrows. “In Manchester--for my birthday. Was really cool.”

His fingers keep working their way over Liana and Louis’ skin in slow circles, but Louis isn’t thinking about that, or how shirtless Harry is, or anything else. “No way,” he breathes. _Me too_ , he thinks. He’s not even sure how to voice that, not sure how to work his vocal chords, which is slightly worrying be it they’re singers. Who sing. For a living.

“So were we,” says Tiamat, coming to his rescue. “At the Apollo?”

Harry blinks. “Yeah, um--you really were--?”

“ _Yeah_.” Louis finds his voice. He hasn’t had a chance to really think about his Scriptconcert in ages, and to learn that Harry had been there--his Harry, staring up at the stage lights and swaying to _Break Even_ like the lot of them. “Ended up getting home quite late--my mum had a proper strop about it, never mind Tiamat couldn’t keep a shape.”

“It’s when I realized we were going to be a cat,” his daemon interjects, inching forward on the bed so that Louis can feel her breath against the back of his neck. “Forgive me.”

Louis opens his mouth to retort, but like: “Really?” he says, hoarse. “Like--really?”

“Yes, really,” says Tiamat. “I dunno why--wasn’t that great of a concert--”

“It was too,” mumbles Harry and Louis both.

“Even though it wasn’t The Fray,” Louis adds.

Harry smiles.

Tiamat ignores the both of them. “--But something about it felt nice,” she says.

“Like home,” says Liana, from beneath Louis’ chin. “I was a squirrel for most of it, and H here was a wuss and wouldn’t let me change the whole night.”

Harry flushes suddenly, pulling his hands back to pick at the hem of his boxers. “It was weird,” he mumbles. “All my friends were settled already.”

Louis can feel his face softening, and nothing Tiamat mumbles under her breath is able to stop that. “Aw, Haz,” he says, reaching up to cup both of Harry’s cheeks in his palms. “You’re adorable.”

“But not a squirrel,” says Liana, twisting around so that she can stare at Louis with unblinking eyes. Now that she’s this close (and no one’s having orgasms) Louis notices that her eyes are actually nearly green, to match Harry’s. Tiamat’s eyes are obviously not the same color as Louis’--more of a green-gold on good days--but Liana’s got a spark of green in hers that reminds Louis of spring.

“No,” he says, throat suddenly thick. “No--you’re nothing like a squirrel.”

“Thank you.” Harry’s daemon is definitely smiling.

“You’re welcome,” Louis manages, heart pounding. He glances back towards Harry, who looks equally affected by the exchange. “So, um,” he says. “We were at the same concert, then.”

Harry pulls back from him with a laugh, a hand coming up to ruffle his fringe out of shape and then back into place.

Louis takes the moment to settle more comfortably back into the bed, settling onto what he knows is Harry’s preferred side of the bed, one because it’s closest, and two because he wants to be the big spoon tonight.

Liana goes slinking up towards the pillows, settling onto Louis’ and circling till she’s comfortable.

“Imagine if we’d met then, yeah?” says Louis, as Harry gets into bed next to him, glances at the right side of the bed, and then sprawls so that he’s nearly covering all of Louis.

“Would you have settled then if we met then?” Harry says to Tiamat, who’s curled up in the empty space next to the two of them. “Or would you have waited till X-Factor?”

“Oh, definitely X-Factor,” says Tiamat promptly. “‘Cause this one’s a bit slow to catch up.”

“Hey,” says Louis, although he’s muffled by Harry’s neck.

“I think we’d have waited as well,” pipes up Liana. “Not that you’re not life changing, Lou, but you know.”

“‘With great power comes great responsibility’, I know,” says Louis, shoving Harry off him a bit so that the younger lad goes sprawling across his daemon. Which is probably a bad idea because every point of contact between Harry and his daemon makes his skin itch and his heart race.

“Did you just quote Spider-man at me?” Harry tries to ask, as Louis talks over him.

“But it’s better this way, yeah?”

Harry stops whining about Marvel Superheroes and sighs. “Pardon?’

“So polite,” Louis murmurs, reaching out to tuck a curl behind his ear. “It’s better we met in that loo at X-Factor,” he repeats. “‘Cause like, One Direction.”

“One Direction,” Harry agrees. “I hear they’re pretty great lads, the lot of them. Great ‘charisma’.”

“Yeah.” Louis grins at him. “That Barry guy I hear’s a real charmer--and curly to boot.”

“Gotta love curls,” Harry agrees, a bit pink in the cheeks.

“Not to mention his voice,” Louis goes on, unperturbed. “Got a good set of pipes on him, that Harry Styles.”

“Lou,” Harry whines. “Stop it.”

“Gotta learn to take a compliment, Styles,” Louis says. “When we take over the world you’re going to be a star.”

“Are we taking over the world, now?” says Harry. “Are we superheroes, or summat?”

“Liam’s not allowed to be Batman,” Louis says instantly.

“Agreed,” says Tiamat, from under Harry. “But seriously.”

“It’d probably be easier if we’d met then,” Harry says suddenly, like they hadn’t gone off on a superhero tangent, ears going pink when he realizes. “I mean, um.”

Louis swallows heavily, the mood suddenly much darker, and struggles to keep smiling. “I’d probably still be arse-over-tits gone for you,” he says, voice rasping around the edges. “So, like, that wouldn’t really change.”

“We’d also be considerably poorer,” puts in Liana. “And yes, I know we’re not actually that rich.”

“We’re not.” Tiamat bats her in the face with a giant paw.

“I’d still have to look after you is what I’m trying to say,” says Louis, because he is incapable of letting it be. “‘Cause I love you, obviously, and that’s a thing you do when you love someone, yeah.”

“Louis,” Harry says softly.

“No, Hazza I--” Louis stops gathering his thoughts. “I know you know there’s stuff I’m not telling you--”

He stops again, swallowing around the sentiment, not quite sure how to finish that sentence; he doesn’t know how to put ‘there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you’ into less dramatic words.

“Louis,” Harry says again, interrupting him, before he’s tackling him back onto the bed, arms wrapping tight around him and _hugging_ him for all he’s worth. He’s not quite shaking, not quite smiling, but he leans down and whispers in Louis’ ear how much he loves him anyway. The feeling that settles into Louis’ chest is something he wants to ink there permanently.

“I’m glad I met you in the loo at X-Factor,” Louis tells him, instead. “Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Not even for a dinner date with Chad Michael Murray?” says Harry, and Louis pulls away to punch him in the arm.

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re coming with me.”

Harry just raises his eyebrows at him, still pink around the cheeks and grinning.

“I’ve always wanted to meet an aquatic daemon,” says Liana, breaking the tension. “So no objections from me.”

“How’s that even work, though?” says Harry after a moment. “Does he just carry a fishbowl around everywhere? What if the glass breaks?”

Louis opens his mouth, and closes it.

Harry does the same.

“ _Anyway_ ,” says Tiamat. “Either of you planning on turning off the light, or are we not sleeping?”

Louis exchanges a quick glance with Harry, before turning to his daemon with waggling eyebrows. “Why, Tiamat,” he says. “I have no idea what you’re suggesting.”

“I’m telling Chad’s daemon you were conspiring to kill her,” says Tiamat. “Also, fuck you.”

\--

In a shocking turn of events, Louis wakes up from a midday nap in the studio to Liana leaping out of Harry’s arms and into his lap.

“Save me!” she shrieks, giggling into his neck and ignoring the looks they’re getting from everyone around them. Technically Louis is nowhere near the booth--he’s down the hall, in a side room, on a sofa, attempting to catch up on Twitter and apparently napping, and for once not pressed to the glass outside the booth making faces at Liam or Zayn or whomever is in the room with the microphone.

It’s half two, Louis has just been woken from a lovely dream featuring England winning the World Cup, and now Harry Styles is in his lap.

“Liana,” Harry whines, trying to wrestle his daemon out of Louis’ arms. “Don’t be mean.”

Louis blinks down at the two of them, incredibly startled and not sure what’s going on. “Um.”

“‘Put me on the floor’,” says Liana, cackling. Harry hasn’t managed to grab her, and so Louis is left awkwardly cradling her and trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.

“Erm.”

“Stop it, _Li_ ,” Harry whines, drawing it out. He goes squirming across Louis’ lap until he’s essentially straddling Louis, with Liana between the two of them in mildly worrying hysterics.

Tiamat is at Louis’ side by the sofa, looking equally half asleep. “What?” she says.

“What she said,” Louis says.

“Check Twitter,” says Liana, at the same time Harry manages to pry her free of Louis’ hands. “Check Twitter--quick--”

“No, don’t,” says Harry, settling his daemon on top of his head and then flopping across Louis like a sack of potatoes. “It’s embarrassing.” He says that last bit mostly into Louis’ chest, curls tickling his neck and making him want to sneeze.

Louis blinks a few more times, no less sleepy. “What?”

“Twitter,” repeats Liana. “Please--Twitter.”

Louis manages to get his hands free long enough to grab his mobile, which he unlocks and heads off towards the Twitter app while Harry grumbles into his chest and shifts around on Louis to get more comfortable. Which is really very distracting and not at all good for Louis’ heartrate, but certainly wakes him up.

When he gets to Harry’s profile, he ends up blinking some more. “Harold,” he says. “I’m hurt.”

“Shuddup,” Harry moans, tossing his head side to side on Louis’ chest and inching his hands up to clutch at the material near Louis’ shoulders.

“[You’re leaving me for Iouis Tomlinson](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/84006932934950912),” Louis continues, clicking through to the person’s profile and narrowing his eyes. “I--I--I--ou--is....how in the fuck do you say that?”

“ _Louis_.” Harry draws his name out for ages. “Louis, why?”

“You tell me why, Harold,” Louis says. “Why are you leaving me for I Owe You Tomlinson?”

There’s a beat.

“I Owe You Tomlinson?” Harry says, sounding pained.

“I Owe You Tomlinson,” Louis repeats. “But seriously--H, come on. It was obviously fake.”

“Obviously,” repeats Liana.

Harry makes another pained noise into Louis’ chest, and Louis just has to pet through his curls until he’s near purring. “I know,” he tells Louis’ t-shirt. “I know--I realized.”

He had, in fact, [tweeting awkwardly about it in his usual, charming, Harry way](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/84009314003582976), but Louis is never one to waste an opportunity to tease Harry Styles. He goes so wonderfully pink all over. And when Louis says all over, he actually means all over.

“You can make it up to me later, how bout,” Louis decides, once Harry’s lifted his head to look at him. “Promise.”

Harry narrows his eyes at him and looks like he wants to start shifting around with even more purpose--but the door to their sanctuary opens and Liam arrives, looking awkward.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling the door shut behind Bethania, who scampers over to Tiamat like an over exuberant puppy.

Louis’ daemon eyes her with almost amusement, as Beth’s tail goes wagging frantically back and forth.

“Payno,” Louis says, like he’s not got a lapful of Harry Styles. “How’re things?”

“Good, yeah,” says Liam. “I, um.”

“He wants to tweet Leona Lewis,” says Bethania. “But he’s being a wuss about it.”

“ _Beth_ ,” Liam hisses, red across the face. “They need you for vocals, Lou.”

Louis narrows his eyes at Liam, and then at Bethania, and then nudges Tiamat with his foot. “Shall we?”

Tiamat stares back at him blankly. “I’m not the one who seems to have an acquired two strange growths,” she says.

On his chest, Harry and Liana both sputter, although Louis can tell Harry’s mostly giggling. “Excuse me,” says Liana. “I am not a _growth_.” She jumps off of Harry’s back and heads over to Liam and Beth, and immediately starts whispering with Liam’s daemon.

Louis isn’t really listening, but he gathers Liam is actually struggling with [tweeting Leona Lewis](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/84016503170666496).

“I’m going have to leave you for I Owe You Tomlinson after that,” mumbles Harry.

Louis turns up his nose at him, before grinning, and then shoving him off the couch. Tiamat sidesteps him easily enough, cackling under her breath, before following after Louis back towards the booth.

“Leaving you!” Harry calls.

“Love you too!”

\--

Louis makes it up to him several hours later, on yet another sofa, when [Harry tweets him telling him he looks sexy](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/84016503170666496).

“You’re fucking _blushing_ ,” Tiamat tells him, from underneath his legs, and Louis pointedly ignores her and responds to Harry.

‘[@Harry_Styles hahaha I am being slowly seduced by your curls](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/84057197314715648).’

Next to them, Harry’s eyes light up.

“You’re fucking being _seduced by his curls_ ,” Tiamat tells him, still from underneath his legs, and this time Louis shoves her off the couch.

[Harry’s response](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/84057489838051328) makes his cheeks hurt.

“Your face,” hisses Tiamat, from her place on the floor. “Your fucking face.”

Several hours later, Louis’ in the loo washing his hands, when his mobile informs him of a [new tweet from Harry](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/84077771818672128). And, well. He’s looking at himself in the mirror when he reads it, and he has to admit his face is pretty telling.

When he voices this, Tiamat gets a look on her face that tells him she’s going to start going on about how she told him so.

“Shut up,” he says preemptively, and tries to be less giddy about Harry tweeting his favorite band.

\--

The first thing Louis’ mum says when she’s finished hugging the breath out of him, is “So, tell me about your Harry.”

Louis figures that’s all that really needs to be said, about the face situation. He’s got his phone out, a half composed text to Harry open on the screen, and he’s carrying enough clothes to last the next few days. He’s not planning on staying home for all that long--he’s got to be back in London for Wireless in three or so days--just long enough to get through the match and then maybe a few days after that. Or so. Harry’s making plans to see his cousins in Manchester, and Louis is trying his hardest not to be clingy. Apparently he’s failing, since whatever his face is doing must manage to convey just how utterly fucked for Harry he is.

 _Miss you_ , he finishes typing, before clicking his phone locked and shoving it back into his pocket. “Hi, mum,” he says, dragging his duffle with him into the house. “Nice to see you too.”

His mum makes a clucking noise, closing the door behind him and following him towards the kitchen.

Elpidius had been on his mum’s head when she answered the door, but now that they’re in the privacy of their own home, he goes scampering down her arm so that he can stare into Louis’ eyes like he’s seeing his soul. After nineteen years, Louis is still convinced that he actually is.

At his side, Tiamat has a sudden sneezing fit.

“So,” says his mum’s daemon. “Harry?”

“You’ve met Harry,” says Tiamat, whining, ear pressing against her head.

Elpidius doesn’t look amused. “Harry,” he repeats.

“ _Mum_ ,” Tiamat whines, looking beseechingly up at Jay, who’s been stood there the entire time looking equally unimpressed.

“What do you want to know?” Louis asks finally, when it becomes clear that his mum isn’t going to stop looking at him any time soon.

“Does he love you?” says his mum, not one to beat around the bush.

Louis feels his lips quirk up into a familiar smile. “Lots’ settled yet?” he asks instead, hoping the smile says all he needs to say.

“No.” Lottie wanders into the foyer, Basileios draped around her neck as a snake, wearing pajamas. “Which is entirely _your_ fault. It’s probably genetic.”

Louis rolls his eyes at her, setting his duffle down with a thud so that he can go hug his baby sister. “Right,” he says, as Lottie struggle in his grip. “That’s exactly how genetics work. You got my wait-till-you’re-well-beyond-the-normal-age-to-settle-genes through like osmosis. Is that the word?”

 “I think so,” says Tiamat, slinking away from Elpidius and blinking up at Basileios.

Louis waves a hand. “Whatever. Entirely plausible way for genetics to work.” He has a brief thought about Troy, but he very quickly pushes that away. He hasn’t seen the man since before X-Factor, and he’s not planning on changing that at any point soon. But Lottie. Lottie, who’s just shy of the age when all her friend’s daemons are going to settle, with Basileios wrapped her neck flashing between different snakes.

Lottie makes a face up at him and opens her mouth.

“You’re poisonous, aren’t you?” Tiamat says rhetorically, before she can.

Basileios pauses as some sort of vibrant-green rattle snake. “No,” he says. His voice is a shade deeper than Louis remembers it being, and he frowns. It’s not been _that_ long since he’s been home, has it?

 “You’ll settle when you’re ready,” their mum interrupts, and Lottie rolls her eyes, instantly distracted.

“You’re just saying that because you’re supposed to say that,” she says, twisting free of Louis’ embrace and weaving off towards the kitchen. Lio unfurls from her neck and is a dove in a flash, flying ahead of her and muttering under his breath.

Louis watches them go with an odd feeling in his stomach and the memory of flight fluttering on the edge of his consciousness.

“So, Harry,” says his mum again, and Louis grabs his duffle bag instantly.

“You’ve met Harry, mum!” he calls over his shoulder, heading for the stairs and his room before Elpidius can catch Tiamat in one of those never-ending staring contests. “Now, I seem to remember having three more sisters....”

His mum says something to his back--no doubt telling him she’ll get it out of him eventually, but Daisy and Phoebe are racing forward to take him down at the knees, Carys and Philo taking advantage of the fact that Tiamat can’t shift to smoosh her under a pile of--

“Dragons,” says Tiamat, sounding pained. “Of course it would be dragons.”

Louis just laughs at her, amused, before dropping down to better hug his sisters. “Fizz!” he calls. “I know you still live here!”

Louis’ final sister comes grumbling out to meet him, and Louis only has to meet Lottie’s eyes from where she’s hovering near the doorway, before they’re both charging and the room becomes filled with a mess of girls, Louis, daemons, and laughter.

\--

His mum gets him after the footie match, when Louis is sweaty, exhausted, has signed his name more times than he can count, and wants nothing more than to get back in the car so that he can have a shower.

“So?” she says.

“Loads,” Louis says, in answer to her question from before, because he may not know if Harry will still want him two months from now, but there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s how he feels. “I love him loads.”

His mum doesn’t say anything about how they’re too young, or how they’re too famous, or even try to broach the subject of whether or not wanting to fuck Harry into all available surfaces means he’d like to fuck lads into all available surfaces full stop. Louis is glad that she doesn’t, because he’s relatively certain that he doesn’t fucking _care_ about age or fame or anything else.

He just wants Harry.

That’s got to be enough for now.

_\--_

Three days later, and Louis is back in London just back from the X-Factor studios, giggling to himself about having nicked Tim Dean’s phone, with texts to Harry open and also Twitter.

Harry’s refusing to let him have his fun, mostly because Louis made some off comment about Caroline Flack’s daemon being pretty--and he is; Louis’ never met anyone with a robin daemon--he’s reckons he’s justified--and has gone and tweeted telling the world it’s not Tim Dean on his account. Or wasn’t.

Louis just rolls his eyes and opens a new tweet to Harry.

“What’re you going to say?” says Tiamat, peeking around him at the phone, and then sighing.

‘[miss you babycakes](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/86132736212996096),’ Louis finishes typing, before hitting the tweet button.

“Right.” Tiamat looked moderately pained. “Right.”

Louis waits a quick second for the tweet to get some notifications, before returning to his texts to Harry.

 _Harooooooold_ , he whines. _Stop being mean to me_.

 _I’m not the one who said Hesiod was a beautiful name_ , Harry returns stiffly, and Louis can practically see Liana on his head, fluffed up and glowering at the phone.

 _H, you know we don’t like birds_ , Louis says, grinning a little to himself at the unintentional pun. _I was just saying that it means to throw song_ \--

Before he can finish, Harry replies, _Aeliana means sun_ , he’s typed, quickly. _That’s much cooler._

Louis snickers at him, switching back over to Twitter to look at the damage.

‘[I miss you too sweetcheeks ;)](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/86134060291854336),’ Harry’s gone and tweeted, and Louis has very sudden déjà vu all the way back to the X-Factor Live Tour.

 _You’re a  sap, Harold_ , he tells Harry via texts. _Why do I love you again?_

 _Aw, Lou,_ Harry replies. _You luuuuuuuuv me?_

 _I take it back I absolutely don’t_ , Louis tells him instantly. _Not at all._

 _But you miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss me_ , says Harry. _Twitter saaaaaaaaaaaaaays._

Louis stares down at it, lips pressed together.

“Your face,” Tiamat whispers, as Louis thumbs Harry’s name once, and presses call.

“Bugger off,” he says, in time for Harry to pick up the phone. “Hazza? Hi! I don’t love you so much I’m calling you to say I don’t miss you.”

He hangs up to the sound of Harry’s laughter, bright, and making his chest ache to see him.

Miss you babycakes indeed.

“Harry would make a terrible cake,” says Tiamat. “But even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t want you to eat him.”

Louis stares at her blankly for a few moments.

“Not sure about you, though,” says Tiamat, smirking.

Louis throws his phone at her, but doesn’t correct her.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daemon AU primer/daemon list is [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) on my tumblr. Feel free to come say hi!
> 
> Masterpost/edit is [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/99154370955/fic-i-need-you-here-with-me-now-words-rating). ~~All of you should reblog it.~~
> 
> I’m about to be on a five day break from school so I am 99.9 percent sure July will not take this long. Honest. Until next time!


	7. July 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S OFFICIALLY BEEN NOT TWO MONTHS EVERYONE CELEBRATE. Sources still here, on [the timeline](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/97517366940/a-1d-timeline-of-doom). Special shout out to Megan for knowing when music videos were filmed. Primer with info/daemons still [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) on tumblr. 
> 
> Betaed by Vic (who I love even as she roots for the wrong football team) and Sabrina (who is fabulous and cutting and brutally honest and it is magical). Britpicked by Jess. All other mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

**July 2011**

\--

Louis is drunk.

Louis is drunk and that’s okay, really, because it makes everything all floaty and wonderful and colorful. Tiamat’s somewhere off to his side, grumbling, because while she can’t get drunk in the same way he can, she’s also not immune to hangover headaches and vomiting. In particular, Louis’ daemon isn’t all that fond of the dizziness.

Everything’s spinning at the moment, although presently that might have more to do with the woman who’s gone and dragged Louis into an impromptu dance mid-song.

She’s taller than Louis, which is terribly frustrating, and it’s late enough in the afternoon that her make-up’s started to bleed all around her eyes, but she’s laughing and singing and having so much fun that Louis can’t help but join her, grappling at her shoulders and the small of her back awkwardly to keep from falling over.

“Oh,” he says, when he accidentally cops a feel. “Oops?”

Something about that rings wrong in his head, like an alarm bell, and Louis’ tail goes lashing back and forth. Or. Louis hasn’t got a tail--Tiamat’s the one with a tail--and that’s the other thing about being drunk that Louis isn’t fond of. The whole conscious bleed...thing. If that makes sense--not much makes sense anymore--Louis’ still got his hand on the woman’s arse.

“Oops,” she says, not sounding like she means it at all, and cops her own feel.

Louis squeaks on reflex, nerves lighting up because it’s been nearly a month since he’s had anyone’s hands on him except Harry’s, and drags his own hand back instantly. His tail is still lashing, and now his ears are pressed against his skull.

“For the last time,” says Tiamat. “You don’t have a damn tail.”

Louis looks to his left to stare at her, and also to make sure, and frowns. He doesn’t remember Tiamat being quite that thin or tall, nor had he remembered her spots being that densely placed around her left shoulder--nor had he remembered her eyes being that color gold.

“Also I’m still on your right,” says Tiamat.

Louis’ head snaps back around and he giggles, relieved because _that’s_ his daemon. Unamused, spotted, bulky, with her ears pressed to her head and her tail lashing.

Because the woman’s still got her hand on Louis’ bum.

When Louis meets her eyes for what feels like the first proper time, she smirks at him once before pulling her hands back up his back. “Oops,” she repeats.

 _Hi_ , Louis thinks, and is hit all of a sudden with an ache for Harry. He frowns, unhappy, thinking about how the last time he saw Harry was ages ago.

“Like five days,” grumbles his daemon, and Louis goes to swat at her. Only his brain must still be muddled from the alcohol, because it’s only the woman’s quick thinking that prevents Louis from accidentally swatting at _her_ daemon, who Louis’ rapidly sobering brain realizes is a _cheetah_ , not a leopard. And oh God Louis almost touched _someone else’s daemon_. Someone else _not Harry_.

He needs to sit down.

“Alright, that’s...a bit presumptuous of you, but not the end of the world, love,” says the woman, but she drags Louis away from the mass of bodies regardless.

“We are not that kind of girl,” adds the woman’s daemon, and Louis is drunk enough that he finds himself actively listening to the timber of her voice, because it’s definitely a female voice.

“No--I--” Louis fumbles for words. “Your daemon’s a she.”

The woman pulls back from him and levels him an unimpressed look. “How drunk are you, popstar?” she asks.

Louis blinks. “You know who I am?” he replies, shaking his head to clear it even further.

He’s not _that_ drunk, really. Just enjoying the atmosphere of an outdoor music festival, and missing Harry like a phantom limb. Their flat is empty when Harry’s not around, which is entirely why Louis’ stayed home for as long as he had, and while they’re both going to be back in London soon, Louis still misses him.  A lot. Which is probably why his sisters had practically flung him into Stan’s arms, and also why Stan had flung him at Wireless.

“You’re not hearing anything I’m saying, are you?” asks the woman, a bit redundantly.

“No,” Louis admits, dragging a hand through his hair and shifting on the balls of his feet.

The woman shrugs, not seeming bothered. “I watched you all on X-Factor,” she explains. “Liked you from the start.”

Louis blinks.

“Or week four I suppose,” the woman continues. “We’ve got to stick together, yeah?”

Louis keeps blinking at her.

“We’re both spotted, love,” says the woman’s daemon, and obviously convention is out the window.

“We’re drunk,” the woman adds helpfully. “There are no conventions.”

Louis mulls that over. That sounds nice, actually. He should tell Harry.

The woman had been looking at him with a half soft expression on her face, but now she looks a little confused. “I’m sorry--who’s Hazza?”

Louis blinks so more. “Have I been speaking out loud?” He glances over at Tiamat in the hope that she maybe has the answers.

His daemon stares back at him blankly. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I hear everything you say anyway.”

Louis has to give her that, because the near telepathy he and his daemon have is even _worse_ when one of them is inebriated. Louis hadn’t made a pattern of getting pissed before he was technically allowed, but once upon a time he and Hannah ended up in Stan’s parent’s booze cupboard and well. Things had happened.

“You have been,” says the woman, answering Louis’ initial question. “Hazza?”

Louis opens his mouth to respond, when what she’s been asking catches up with him more fully. “Hang on, have I been calling Harry _Hazza_ this entire time?” he asks.

There’s another short pause.

“Again--hear everything you say _full stop_ ,” says Tiamat, at the same time the woman laughs at the both of them.

“Oh, Harry,” she says. “That’s the curly one, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis is aware he’s doing that face thing again. “’s Harry.” He sounds like he’s head over heels, which is both accurate and horrifying because Louis is in public and Louis is probably being photographed, but he can’t help himself. Besides, Louis once aspired to be an actor and was at one point in a production of _Grease_ \--he’s certain absolutely _no one_ can tell he’s desperately in love with his bandmate Harry Styles.

Tiamat makes a happy sounding noise and collapses in a heap at Louis’ feet.

And that’s the last thing about Louis being drunk; whatever semblance of control Louis appears to have when he’s not drunk off his arse vanishes the moment he gets a few drops of alcohol in him. This is why Hannah and he had vowed never again to get drunk off of Stan’s parent’s alcohol, and why Harry isn’t the first boy who’s touched Tiamat. Not that Stan _really_ counts, because that had been gross.

And, oh, Louis _hopes_ he hasn’t gone and said that out-loud.

“You haven’t,” says the woman helpfully, but her eyes are definitely twinkling at Louis now. “But he’s lucky, your Hazza.”

Louis nods along. “He is my Hazza,” he says. “Although that’s kind of bad, innit--Harry’s not really mine like. I don’t _own_ him. That’d be weird, like. _Disrespectful_.”

The woman’s lips twitch.

“But like, yeah. My Hazza.” He smiles to himself, pleased. God like, it’s really nice now that the sun’s nearly gone down and it’s not as hot as it was earlier. Louis’ pink VIP lanyard is wilting a little where it’s still hung around his neck, and the sunglasses he’d stolen off Harry’s side of the bed have gone and dragged his t-shirt down to expose quite a lot of collarbone, but it’s _nice_. The woman’s nice as well, standing across from Louis with a smile on her face.

Everything is _awesome_.

“I am awesome, thank you,” says the woman, before she’s patting Louis on the head, pecking him on the cheek, and handing him a cup of water.

Louis is left staring at the plastic in his hand for a long moment, and by the time he realizes he never got her or her daemon’s name, she’s disappeared into the throng of dancing people.

(He’s sure to text Harry about it, after, curled up in his bed at home staring down at his phone and smiling at the little bubble that tells him Harry’s typing, that Harry’s existing.)

\--

Harry gets back to the flat sometime after 5 pm carrying an armful of shopping with Liana on his head. He looks to be struggling, muttering to himself and to Liana while he wrestles the key to their flat out of the lock.

“Hi, Lou,” he says quickly, even as the bags tilt dangerously in his arms.

Louis’ sitting on the sofa in the middle of watching telly, so he lets the remote drop into his lap and blinks curiously at Harry. “You need some help?” he says finally.

The look Harry shoots him is nothing short of besotted, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree and mouth quirking up at the corners. He’s the right colors for a Christmas tree as well, eyes bright green and lips near red; which means he’s been worrying his bottom lip again.

Louis shoves the remote off his lap and gets to his feet.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry is in the middle of saying as Louis traipses across the floor to stand in front of him, where he smiles winningly, and very gently lifts Liana off his head and carries her into the flat.

There is a very long and very drawn out pause.

Louis doesn’t turn around to look at Harry, because he’s sure he’d burst out laughing if he did. “Something wrong, Haz?” he calls over his shoulder, still not turning.

“I,” says Harry. “Liana can walk, Lou.”

Louis looks down at Harry’s daemon, who looks equally shell-shocked, and is frozen in his arms. He puts her on the ground. “Huh,” he says. “Would you look at that.”

“You,” says Harry. “You absolute _arsehole_.”

Louis does turn at that. “Now, now, Harold,” he says coyly. “We haven’t seen each other for days--let’s not talk about my arsehole just yet.”

Harry makes a broken sputtering noise, still stood in front of the door with the key in the lock and the groceries in his hands. “I’m--I’m holding _eggs_!”

Louis ignores him. “It missed you, though,” he continues, winking at Harry once over his shoulder. “Specifically, your tongue.”

Harry’s mouth opens again, before he pauses, a vague, almost constipated look appearing on his face. “To be clear, you do mean--?” he starts to ask, before Tiamat clears her throat very loudly.

“I no longer wish to live in this house with the two of you,” she says primly.

“Oh, shut up, you love it when Harry eats Lou out,” says Liana, before sticking her nose in the air and striding off towards the kitchen.

Louis is left alone to gape at her, as Harry abandons the key to avoid stretching his and Liana’s bond, darting into their flat laden with eggs and milk and apparently bread. “ _Li_ \--” he starts to hiss, before his voice tapers off as he gets further into the flat.

Louis very quietly goes to retrieve Harry’s key from the lock, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Marry her,” he tells Tiamat in an undertone.

“Marry _him_ ,” returns his daemon, but she looks equally besotted.

A few moments later, Louis’ phone dings with a wonderful notification telling him Harry’s gone and [tweeted about his shopping](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/87925331184467968). Blessedly, he hasn’t mentioned the discussion of rimming.

\--

They’re on plane en route to shoot their first ever music video for their first ever single, and Louis is wedged into the plane toilet with his hand between his teeth and Harry’s mouth around his cock and he has no idea how he got there.

He thinks it’d started when they’d got on the plane, because instead of your usual too-cold-to function, it had been a tad humid in the cabin. Harry had commented on it an offhand way, before squeezing in next to Louis and Tiamat, like his daemon was big enough to warrant the larger seats. Niall and Eirian had taken up the row across from them with Zayn and Liam on either side, looking on worriedly as Niall’s daemon went a bit green around the edges.

Louis supposes it _really_ began when Harry fell asleep briefly for the first hour of the flight and an air hostess brought him a blanket. Because half an hour later, Harry ended up covered from head to toe with the fleece blanket and nothing else. And then he’d gone and leaned in close to Louis so that Louis could smell the new cologne he’d taken to wearing, and had the audacity to whisper “fancy popping off to the loo?” in the poshest accent he could manage. And, like, also grabbed Louis’ dick.

So they’re currently joining the mile high club, then.

Harry is nothing if not good at giving blowjobs. Louis’ been on the internet enough times to realize that this is a fact that hasn’t been missed, which is all well and good, but Louis also prides himself in being the only person on the receiving end of said blowjobs. The point is that Harry’s got a great mouth, and when Louis isn’t busy watching it sing, he’s busy kissing it, and biting it, and at present, getting a hand tangled into Harry’s curls so he can fuck up into it.

Harry doesn’t seem all that bothered, humming pleasantly around Louis’ cock and flicking his eyes up so that he can look at Louis from under his lashes.

He pulls off with a satisfied sounding pop, licks his lips a few times, and continues to stare up at Louis between his lashes.

“Um,” Louis manages, not sure what he’s meant to be doing with his hands, let alone his voice.

Their daemons are a pile over by the door, but the plane loo is small enough that Harry’s got both his feet touching Tiamat, which isn’t helping matters, to be honest.

“Love you,” Harry tells Louis, and then Louis’ dick, wrapping a hand around the base and squeezing.

Louis’ head goes slamming back against whatever surface thing Harry’s got him shoved up against, and the both of them freeze.

Well. Harry doesn’t really freeze. Harry keeps wanking Louis’ dick, torturously slow, with his lashes all clumpy from all the deep throating and his cheeks flushed bright pink. The fleece blanket is hanging off his shoulders like some sort of cape, which Louis finds oddly poetic. Harry looks like some sort of cock-sucking superhero, complete with a smirk on his face and precome dotting his mouth. Although how cock-sucking could save the world, Louis isn’t sure.

When Harry moves to take Louis’ dick back in his mouth, however, Louis reconsiders, because Harry’s cock-sucking could probably fund multimillion dollar franchises about superheroes like--Louis is--

Louis has no idea how they’re going to explain this whole dual toilet visit to anyone else on the damn plane, never mind he’s had enough of Niall’s proud looks, Zayn’s smug looks, and Liam’s oddly jealous but mostly just horrified looks.

“I hadn’t planned on telling them anything, actually,” Harry says quietly, because apparently Louis has been keeping a running commentary during this entire process. “But if you really want to--can I have a terrible pun as my superhero name? Like, erm.” He pauses, letting go of Louis’ dick and  brow furrowing.

“Dicker....man?” says Louis, wincing.

Harry opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Dickerman,” he repeats.

“Like, Superman only. With dicks,” Louis explains, well aware that he’s making very little sense.

“Right,” Harry nods to himself. “Right--you’re ridiculous.”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know that most of our Twitter followers think I’m bloody hilarious--” Louis starts to protest, before Harry takes him back in his mouth and he stops thinking about anything beyond how he should have made a pun about swallowing instead. Like, the Sword Swallower--that has a nice ring to it and is actually clever--Louis should have said the Sword Swallower--Louis might be saying the Sword Swallower out loud even as Harry fucking swallows, lips obscenely red where they’re wrapped around Louis’ dick--

Louis should stop thinking about swallowing, because Louis would like to last more than three seconds, only Harry is fucking winking at him and reaching a hand back to pet Tiamat’s flank.

Which is unfair.

And cheating.

And once Louis’ brain is done melting out of his ears in mush he’s going to pay Harry back.

“You should have said the Sword Swallower,” says Harry, licking at the corners of his mouth and smirking like a smug bastard. “It’s clever.”

Louis can only glare at him balefully with his dick still out and his chest heaving, as Harry collects Liana from the corner, re-wraps the blanket around his shoulders, and shuffles out of the loo.

“Fuck Harry Styles, honestly,” says Louis, after a moment’s silence. “Honestly.”

Tiamat makes a garbled noise from somewhere near his feet. “Let’s not do that,” she manages.

“I cannot feel my legs,” agrees Louis.

“Do we even have legs?” asks Tiamat.

Louis doesn’t know.

“We don’t need legs,” decides Tiamat. “We have Harry Styles.”

“Fuck Harry Styles,” Louis says again, for good measure.

“Honestly,” agrees Tiamat.

Louis’ revenge is to take advantage of the fact that Harry is both shameless, naked, and only covered in a giant blanket. He spends the rest of their flight to Los Angeles with one hand covering Liana’s back under said blanket, while Harry goes pinker and pinker around the cheeks and has to struggle to have conversations with the air hostesses and Liam and even, cruelly, Zayn, who definitely knows what’s going on.

At one point he lifts one eyebrow in Louis’ general direction, having spent the better half of an hour trying to talk to Harry about what he thinks of the beach concept for the music video--what he thinks about music videos _period_ \--while Harry looked about ten seconds from dragging Louis back into the loo for a repeat performance.

Louis simply smirks back at him and lets go of Liana before Harry gives the plane something of an eyeful, and vows to do something nice for Zayn when they land. Like convince Liam to share with Niall in the hotel room.

\--

“So beach scenes,” says Louis, looking around at the buzz of people on the beach. They’ve got a very limited camera set up--just John with the RED Camera (which Louis had already made several puns about and they’ve only been filming for about four hours) and a few extra guys--so it’s not really all that busy. John’s daemon, a jackal named Lunete, has an eye for detail that makes Louis’ skin itch, which had made most of the scene in the car all the more worse, not to mention the fact that Louis was nearly responsible for running the van off the road and killing his bandmates.

The biggest deal had been the arrival of the girls, at which point the five of them had been pulled aside to shoot reactions, or whatever, for the [behind the scenes](http://vimeo.com/64247301). Technically Harry was supposed to have been interviewed alone, but he and Liana had only to exchange one slightly dubious look, before Louis was winding an arm around his shoulder and going on about the ‘arrival of the females’ and going real life weak at the knees. Harry’d seemed somewhat shocked at the sudden weight pulling him down, but he held Louis up regardless, sputtering, grinning, and shoved a hand into Louis’ back pocket as soon as the camera went off. The camera man had wandered off with a mildly irritated look on his face to film Liam, who was entirely happy to provide a more serious bit of dialogue.

Now, though, they’ve finished the stuff on the road, having been pulled over twice for driving too slowly, and they’re preparing to meet the girls on the beach and have fun. Which is all well and good, except from the looks of things, they’re expected to go into the water.

“What the fuck,” says Tiamat, ears pressed flat to her head. “Sorry.”

Louis waves a hand at her and continues to watch John get footage of Liana, bobbing around in the waves like the sea creature she actually is, as Harry lip syncs to whatever bit of the song they’re onto now. They had Liam do a bit of the chorus earlier, so maybe that’s it--Louis isn’t entirely sure, at this point. He’s mostly concerned with the fact that while he likes swimming as much as the next lad, his daemon decided to settle as a cat.

“This is unfair,” whines said daemon. “I like water.” She unflattens and reflattens her ears. “I like swimming--I like the _beach_.”

“We’ve only been to the beach once,” Louis says, eyeing the waves for another moment.

 Zayn and Niall are stood a few meters away from the two of them arguing over a stick, which Louis is pleased to see they throw into the waves a several moments later, cackling as Bethania seems unable to help but chase it.

“Fuck you lot,” calls Liam when he notices, shaking out his hair and jogging a bit closer to them.

Zayn just grins back at him, pleased, but Niall takes off after him down the beach, Eirian and Bethania racing through the waves with glee.

Louis ends up next to Zayn and Harry while John goes off after Liam and Niall, camera raised up just in time to capture the moment Niall trips on his own feet and faceplants into the waves. Niall appears to be shirtless. Louis doesn’t want to know.

“So,” says Zayn, looking unfairly dry, by comparison. “Not too keen on the water, Tommo?”

Louis flips Zayn off and hikes his trousers up a bit more, crossing his arms and staring at the water.

“I like water,” Tiamat repeats, but she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

“But you’re a cat,” points out Liana, probably trying to be helpful. She shakes the salt-water out of her fur and wanders up and over Louis’ toes.

Louis doesn’t step back, but it’s a near thing, and he’s instantly on alert for cameras. He doesn’t think anyone is actively filming now, but he doesn’t know--they’ve got quite a lot of footage already, but nearly nothing with the girls, so it wouldn’t be out of the question.

“I _am_ a cat,” says Tiamat, answering Liana’s question.

“I think leopards actually swim in like the Amazon and stuff,” points out Harry, quietly, from Louis’ right. Louis’ head swings around to look at him, which is a very unwise choice, since Harry’s damp as well, curls smelling of salt and the sun, with his shirt not nearly buttoned up enough to be decent. The ends of his chinos are soaked through from where he’s been wading through the waves singing about flipping hair and everyone else in the room.

“Right,” says Tiamat, as Niall trips Liam with a gleeful cry. “No problems, then.”

She takes off down the beach without giving Louis a moment to catch up, yanking on their bond in a way that is nearly painful.

“Tiamat!” Louis shrieks, because she might be going on about how she’s unbothered he can feel how much she is not looking forward to frolicking in the waves like a knot under his breastbone and it’s not that pleasant. The sharp pain of distance is almost worse, though, so Louis has no choice but to go barreling into the water as well.

He goes stumbling to halt not even knee deep, water lapping at his ankles pleasantly, while Tiamat flops around in the water grumbling under her breath about how it’s not that bad and she’s perfectly fine and fuck everyone who says that cats don’t like water.

“You do realize that now that you’ve done that there’s no way we’re getting out of this shoot dry, right?” Louis tells her, catching his breath. Liam comes barreling by with one of the girls in his arms, giggling and being trailed by a camera, so Louis is sure to flash a quick smile in its general direction.

“Yeah, well.” Tiamat stands to her full height and shakes, water droplets getting everywhere. “It’s the beach. It’d be weird if we didn’t get wet.”

Louis rolls his eyes at her before glancing back up at the beach where the rest of the lads have regrouped with towels. John appears to have stopped shooting for a moment and over with the rest of the crew reviewing the footage.

Zayn remains unfairly dry, hair perfectly quiffed into place, with Fikriyya high up around his neck, equally dry.

Louis exchanges a quick glance with Tiamat, who very quickly dunks herself back under a wave, before the two of them take off down the beach.

Zayn has about two seconds of warning before Tiamat is darting around him in circles, cackling and shaking water everywhere.

Louis is only moments behind her, stumbling to a stop when Harry steps in his way, the two of them colliding in a fit of giggles. “Oops,” says Harry, grinning.

“Hi,” Louis replies, breathless and lightheaded from the sun and the force of Harry’s dimples.

“For god’s sake, Tommo!” Zayn shrieks, as Tiamat succeeds in tripping Fikriyya off his shoulders and proceeds to cover Zayn’s daemon in wet fur. Bethania very quickly gets in on the action, abandoning whatever conversation she had been having with one of the girl’s daemons--Madison, Louis is pretty sure--to join in on the fun.

“It’s not my fault!” Louis calls back, draping an arm around Harry’s shoulders and tugging the younger lad snug to him. Harry’s definitely taller than him now, but somehow that doesn’t bother Louis all that much. He’s still the big spoon most of the time.

“It is entirely your fault,” says Liana, but she’s definitely smiling, even as she moves away from Louis’ ear just in time for John to pick his camera up again and instruct the five of them back towards the water.

\--

So, like, Louis knows Madison. Louis met her [yesterday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwRvaABkneo), when they all ended up at the Santa Monica Pier to get to know each other, or whatever. Madison is a perfectly lovely person, but she’s also the perfectly lovely person who’s daemon keeps getting encouraged to play with Liana every shot they’re in together. He’s a dove, to boot, which Louis doesn’t even want to try to dissect the subliminal messaging behind that. At present, the sun is just starting to set and Harry’s supposed to be singing his solo to Madison. They’re nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes, and Harry is fucking sin, the way he moves towards her with his eyes dark and his lips ever so flushed, and Louis knows it’s ‘cause he pulled Harry aside a few shots ago and snogged him against one of the rocks while Liam and Zayn distracted everyone else with an impromptu tickle fight. But even knowing that, looking at them still makes something ugly settle into the pit of his stomach.

Harry hadn’t even been all that bothered by the direction to sing towards Madison, although he’s the first person to step back after every take they do, very quick to put distance between Madison and himself, and hasn’t so much as glanced at her daemon beyond the cursory introductions they’d had the day before. He’d said something about it to Louis before, an unsettling resignation to how they were going to be marketed that Louis hasn’t been able to shake, because for all that he likes to pretend they’re just five lads having a laugh, he was present at all the meetings with the numbers and the statistics and the clinical dissection of the North American market.

So he gets it. He understands it. But he can’t quite look at it, is all. Which is why by the time they’ve shot that scene twice, Louis is about three seconds from causing a mini fire or something.

“Tommo,” says Liam, from over his shoulder, and Louis’ attention snaps away from Harry and Madison.

“Yeah?” he says, coming over to where the rest of them are stood over by one of the cars.

“You’re going to burn her face off, mate,” says Liam kindly. “Which would put a whole new spin on ‘you’re insecure don’t know what for.’”

Louis manages a small smile. “I dunno, Liam,” he says. “I think that’d be quite an interesting spin--different.”

“Unique,” Tiamat adds, stalking ahead of him a bit. She’s pointedly not looking back at Liana and Madison’s daemon, whose name Louis is pretty sure she knows, but isn’t bothering to remind him of.

“Something new,” Louis adds.

“That’s a wedding thing, innit?” says Niall, when Louis reaches the three of them.

There’s a sound of laughter from behind his back, but Louis doesn’t look. He’d recognize that barking laugh anywhere, and he doesn’t want to see what caused it.

“Something new, I mean,” Niall clarifies. “Maybe you could invite Madison to your’s and Hazza’s wedding.”

Louis blinks at Niall, at a complete loss for words. “What?” he settles on eventually.

“No, Nialler’s right,” says Liam, looking like he wants to put a consoling hand on Louis’ shoulder or something. “Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new.”

Louis is still stuck on the whole consoling hand thing. He doesn’t look that awful, does he? It’s not like Harry’s gone and _died_ ; he’s just been instructed to romance a girl in a music video for a song that is going to be about girls because they’re in a bloody _boyband_. The world is not ending. Louis is totally fine.

Liam is still looking at him all shiny eyed and concerned, however, so Louis gives himself a shake. “What?” he says again.

“So what’s Tommo bringing that’s old?” says Zayn, when Louis looks to him for guidance. “Himself?”

There’s a very brief silence.

“Fuck you,” Louis manages finally.

Zayn raises both his hands and grins. “So I’m the best man, then?”

“Fuck you,” Louis repeats, even as the sounds of John yelling cut and the warmth of a body pressing in against his back alerts him to the fact that Harry’s finished shooting. “Fucking--Hazza?”

“Mmm?” Harry hums, into Louis’ hair. He’s not quite draped himself over Louis’ entire back in a manner that surely can’t be misconstrued, but there’s only about two centimeters between them preventing that.

“When we get married who’ll be my bestman?”

Harry doesn’t pause. “It’ll have to be Stan, right?” he says. “Or are you gonna put it to this lot--” He reaches around Louis to gesture at Niall, Liam, and Zayn, who have identical smug looks on their faces-- “and have a fight to the death?”

“I think Liam would win out of sheer survival techniques,” says Louis after a moment. “Like, that’s not very fair, is it? Niall’d be a great bestman.”

“Niall would spend the entire ceremony telling embarrassing stories about your bum,” says Harry dryly.

“Niall would do that regardless,” says Niall, but he mimics Zayn’s pose of innocence when both Harry and Louis turn to glare at him.

“Zayn would probably win by sleeping,” Harry decides eventually. “So I guess Zayn can be your bestman.”

“Well then I’m H’s,” says Liam quickly.

“Or we could both have bridesmaids,” interjects Louis, before Niall can say anything else. “Groomsmaids?”

“Complete with awful dresses?” asks Harry.

“I was thinking something along the lines of Grease, actually,” Louis says, starting to turn to face Harry.

“Summer lovin had me a blast?” sings Harry, grinning down at Louis.

Louis blinks up at him, pleased. “Summer loving happened so fast, I think you mean,” he sings back.

Harry dimples down at him. “How fast?” he murmurs, stepping even closer.

And Louis goes to respond, but before he can Zayn is shoving into his side, and he lifts his head in time to catch Madison making a comment about the two of them having more chemistry than her and Harry. She’s laughing, obviously trying to be friends, but Louis just.

Wants to burn her face off through force of will.

He leans further into Zayn regardless, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek. “Sorry, love,” he says in reply to Madison, petting Zayn a few times--once, for effect, and then another few times because Zayn has really smooth skin. “We’re just all really close.”

Zayn suffers the stroking with limited sighing. “Yep,” he agrees. “We’re like a family.”

“Right,” Niall coughs. “A family.”

“Anyway!” says Liam, loudly, “I think they need us over by the campfire.”

“Right,” Louis says, not letting go of Zayn. “Shall we?” As they start walking, he stops leaning quite so heavily on Zayn, perfectly aware of how rigid Harry’s gone. “Do you moisturize, Malik?” he says conversationally,  using the cover of Liam and Niall behind them to very subtly reach back for Harry’s hand. He feels Harry startle more than anything, a barely there stumble before the younger lad is lacing their fingers together and giving Louis’ hand a squeeze. “You’ve got really smooth skin.”

Zayn shakes his head at him, unamused. “Lou,” he says.

“What?” Louis doesn’t let go of Harry’s hand, even as he catches sight of the camera. “I’m not the one with lying cheekbones.”

Zayn blinks. “Lying cheekbones?” he repeats.

“Yeah.” Louis gives Harry’s hand one last squeeze before pulling away so that he can poke Zayn in said cheekbones. “Look at your cheekbones.”

Zayn’s eyebrows lift up.

“I don’t think he can look at his own cheekbones, Lou,” points out Tiamat, from his side, the pinnacle of helpful.

Louis ignores her. “They’re all fake sharp,” he says.

Zayn’s eyebrows lift even higher.

“It’s true--you look like you could cut glass on your cheekbones, Zayn,” says Harry, lengthening his stride so that he can drape an arm around Louis--much more platonic, that. Louis pinches him in the side anyway.

“What’ve you got against Zayn’s cheekbones?” pipes up Niall from Zayn’s other side.

 Liam’s already at the campfire, muttering to Bethania about how to start a fire, Louis guesses, and Madison and the other girls are already sat on the log.

“Nothing,” says Harry. “Love Zayn’s cheekbones.”

“Oi,” says Louis.

“Louis’ cheekbones are nicer,” Harry very quickly amends.

“Louis’ dick is nicer, you mean,” mutters Niall, well under his breath.

Louis reaches around Zayn and smacks him.

\--

The second day of shooting features jumping off a porch onto the beach, more time in the sea, and Zayn burying a sleepy Harry in the sand. Louis takes full responsibility for that first one, laughs for several minutes when Bethania accidentally dunks Tiamat because of that second one, and provides a stunning, Oscar worthy narration for that last one.

Of course Harry wakes up, stares down at the sand Zayn’s gone and dumped over him, and simply closes his eyes to go back to sleep.

Louis ends up stood next to him trying not to coo.

The moment is ruined when Niall comes charging by on a protesting Zayn’s back, shouting, “Music video!” at the top of his lungs, and Zayn throws Niall into the sea.

Harry startles awake next to Louis in the sand with a great gasp.

“Music video?” he manages, voice a little raspy.

“Apparently we’re doing more water scenes,” says Louis, sighing. “Without tops this time,” he adds, when Niall rips his t-shirt off and uses it to lasso the still protesting Zayn.

Harry grins, shaking the sand off himself and standing up. “I’m already topless,” he points out, blinking up at Louis, who has managed to keep his t-shirt on for most of the day. “You’re the only one who’s not topless.

“Payno’s still got his top on,” Louis points out, at the exact moment Liam rips off his t-shirt, flings it at the ground, and joins Niall and Zayn in the sea.

Liana only has to turn her unfairly large eyes on Louis once before he’s sighing, undressing, and following the rest of their band into the damn ocean.

“If I cut my foot open again I am blaming you,” he tells Harry, as he gets the top up and over his head.

“You’re not going to cut your foot open again, Lou,” says Harry, a smile curling around his words. When Louis emerges from his t-shirt he finds the younger lad right next to him, dimples like two giant craters and hair flopping gently in the wind. 

Louis doesn’t cut his foot open in the sea this time. The shoot is infinitely better without the girls. Neither he nor Harry stop smiling the whole ride back to their hotel.

\--

“We look ridiculous,” says Tiamat, staring hard at Louis’ reflection in the mirror they’ve got hung on the back of their toilet door.

Louis frowns a little bit and puts a hand over his stomach, lips pursed. He shifts so he’s facing the mirror profile and gives his reflection another appraising look.

“Seriously,” continues Tiamat. “You’re not supposed to use braces without trousers, I’d think.”

Louis ignores her and shifts around so he can stare at his bum. That, at least, continues to look amazing regardless.

“Louis,” says Tiamat, voice dry as a bone. “When have we not had a great arse?”

Louis turns to face her, hands on his hips and legs spread. “Alright that’s a fair point,” he says, shifting  a little when the material of the braces rubs against his nipples. “My bum is amazing.”

“Your bum could change the world,” agrees Tiamat, tail flicking on the bed. “Right, Harry?”

There’s a resounding thud as the hotel room door closes behind them. Louis doesn’t turn around.

“Oh my god,” Harry says finally, sounding like he’s in pain. “What are you doing?”

Louis takes his hands off his hips and sticks his thumbs under the braces, hissing when that doesn’t help with the whole nipple thing, and turns around to face Harry. Because he’s not got anything but his pants on, the fact that he’s more than a little turned on is not missed by Harry. But then, Harry’s eyes are huge and he’s gone and dropped the bottle of water he’d gone to get from the vending machine a few minutes back in favor of staring blankly ahead.

“Do you like it?” Louis says, pulling the elastic of the braces forward again and shifting on the balls of his feet. It’s far more intimate than when [he’d done](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/100943067550) it in the [interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ybu9jyPaZw&t=1m20s) that morning, but that’s probably because when he’d done it that morning, Louis’d been fully dressed and there’d been a camera.

Now, though, it’s just him, and Harry, and their hotel room.

“Wow,” Liana says finally, popping up from behind Harry’s head.

Harry continues to struggle for words, and Louis sighs. “H,” he says finally, letting go of the braces with a loud snapping noise, which only makes his erection worse.

Harry’s entire body jolts at that and he unfreezes, stalking forward and walking Louis back towards their bed. “What are you doing?” he asks again, voice very low.

Louis glances over at their reflection in the mirror and swallows. When he’d first decided that what he really wanted to do was steal braces from a photoshoot and wear them without any clothes on, he had assumed that the end result would be Harry pinning him to a mattress and fucking him within an inch of his life. Now that he’s gone and done all that, and Harry is two seconds from pinning him to a mattress for said fucking, Louis finds that he doesn’t really know what to say.

“Seducing you?” he manages eventually. “Is it working?”

Harry watches him swallow with half-lidded eyes before reaching out to take hold of the braces with both hands, pulling them taut away from Louis’ shoulders and then snapping them back against his nipples, hard.

Louis moans, head falling back and hips rocking forward into Harry’s, unable to help himself.

“You tell me,” says Harry, sounding like a terrible porno, and Louis can’t quite help but giggle at that.

Harry’s mind seems to be in the same place, because he very quickly abandons his looming pose in favor of collapsing against Louis on the bed. “Louis,” he complains into Louis’ neck. “Don’t be mean to me.”

“I’m not being mean to you,” Louis grumbles, shifting to try to breathe under Harry’s dead weight. “Haz--honest.”

Harry continues to sprawl on top of him with no remorse, fumbling around on the bed until he comes up with the [blue and white blanket](http://41.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lohz2wyu291qhuf2po1_1280.jpg) from earlier. The [pink one](http://41.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lohzhzQi041qhuf2po1_1280.jpg) is on the other bed being used as a Tiamat-Liana nest, but Louis doesn’t really care about that at all because he’s got Harry on top of him and he’s wearing very minimal clothing. “You’re fucking mean,” Harry continues to say into his hair. “God, Lou, your _bum_.”

Louis makes a humming noise and reaches up to pet Harry’s curls a bit, tugging his fingers more harshly through the hair in order to make Harry hiss and rock against him reflexively. “What about my bum, Harry?” he says.

“I fucking _love_ your bum,” says Harry, still into his hair. He gets two large palms around Louis’ waist, the blanket abandoned somewhere near Louis’ head, and pulls their hips flush together.

Louis whines, more than a little overcome. “Hazza.”

Harry mimics him, fingers flexing against the small of Louis’ back, and he rocks his hips forward three blessed times. “Fucking love you full stop,” he mumbles out, pressing tiny kisses all over Louis’ neck and cheeks. “So fucking much.”

“Yeah?” Louis replies, breathless and shifting his hips up against Harry’s on every upswing, toes curling and uncurling against the bed sheets. “How much?”

“So much,” says Harry, right against his ear. “So fucking much--more than anyone--more than any _th_ \--”

Louis kisses him, not because he doesn’t want to hear the end of that sentence, but because he doesn’t _need_ to hear the end of that sentence. That sentence lives in his chest, right next to his heart, thrumming along steadily with every pump of blood through his veins. That sentence is what has him scrambling to get his hands in Harry’s hair, has him licking into his mouth and shoving up from the bed so that every inch of them is touching. “Love you too,” he mumbles into the mess of their mouths. “Love you _more_.”

“Love you most,” says Harry and Louis pulls back with a startled laugh, eyes blown wide and hair in absolute disarray.

He wonders what he looks like, sprawled against the bed with a blush staining his bare chest, cock hard as a rock in his boxers and braces heaving with every breath he takes. Good, hopefully, seeing as Harry looks like he’s having trouble breathing. His eyes are wild, his mouth like bubblegum.

Louis licks his lips without thinking about it. “Did you just quote Disney at me, Harry Styles?” he asks, gleefully.

Harry groans a little and reaches out to snap the leftmost brace against Louis’ chest a few times. “No,” he says. “Maybe.”

Louis’ teeth sink into his bottom lip. “You just quoted _Tangled_ at me,” he says, still gleeful.

“No I didn’t,” says Harry, letting go of the braces and reaching down to cup Louis’ cock through his pants. “I absolutely did not.”

“You absolutely _did_ ,” Louis says, voice cracking in two when Harry tightens his grip. “You absolutely did, Harry Styles, you absolute _sap_.”

“I think you’re the sap, actually,” says Harry, letting go of Louis’ dick. “I’m the tree, of course.” He dimples down at him. “Since I’m taller.”

Louis gapes up at him, torn between snogging him breathless and throwing him out of the hotel room. “How dare you, Harry Styles,” he says, twisting a little underneath Harry until he can get enough leverage to flip them over. “How fucking _dare_ you.”

Harry grins up at him, looking enchanted and so happy he could burst. Louis knows exactly what he’s feeling--his cheeks hurt from all the smiling. “Woops,” says Harry, sounding pleased. He rests his hands back on Louis’ hips and curls his thumbs under the waistband of his pants just a hint.

Louis stares down at him hard, before glancing over at the other bed, where Tiamat and Liana are curled into one singular ball. As soon as he does, Liana’s head comes up and she stares back at Louis with sleepy eyes. “Come ‘ere,” he mumbles heart thudding in his chest.

Harry’s daemon shakes her head but Louis can see how she’s shaking, from all the way across the room. That’s a bit odd, her not wanting to come to him, but before he can think more of it, Harry’s sticking his hand down his pants. “Louis,” he whines. “What’re you doing.”

“You,” Louis tells him, rolling his hips into the cradle of Harry’s fist. “I’m doing you.”

“Doing my hand?” says Harry.

“Yes,” Louis hisses out, eyes falling shut and back arching up against the mattress. He gets a foot down underneath him and shoves up. “But also you in general.”

Harry’s breath hitches. “You going to fuck me?”

“Dunno,” Louis says, blinking open one eye. “Depends.”

Harry thumbs over the head of his cock a few times. “On?” he asks.

“On whether or not I have to take the braces off,” Louis gets out in a rush, grinning at how he sounds moderately composed.

Harry tightens his hand.

“Taking that as a ‘please keep the braces on forever, Lewis,’” says Louis, shifting around on the bed so that he can yank on the hem of Harry’s shirt.

“Please keep the braces on forever, Lewis,” repeats Harry, letting go of Louis long enough to get his t-shirt off. He’s so unbelievably fit like that, skin slightly tanned from all the LA sun and those pesky extra nipples stark against his skin. Louis thumbs over the larger of the four with glee, watching the ways Harry’s eyes get caught on where the braces are lying flat against his own.

“Forever?” he asks lowly.

“Forever,” Harry agrees, reaching out to snap the elastic back against Louis skin again. “They suit you.”

“You suit me,” Louis says out loud, because his higher brain functions are back in LA on the beach frolicking through the waves.

“True,” Harry agrees. “But I don’t think people’d like it very much if you went around wearing me.”

Louis grabs his hands where they’re gripping at the braces and tugs so that they’re both kneeling on the bed facing each other. “Harry,” he says softly.

“Sorry,” says Harry, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve gone and killed the mood.”

Louis very slowly casts his eyes down towards his erection, which has not waned in the slightest. “I think you’ll find the mood is alive and kicking,” he says dryly.

Harry laughs, but it’s subdued.

“I’m sure I could find other ways to wear you that doesn’t involve skinning you, Haz,” Louis tells him, giving both his hands a squeeze.

“Skinning me?” Harry sounds a mix between horrified and laughing hysterically. “That’s quite a bit drastic don’t you think?”

Louis takes advantage of how he’s got him by both the hands and hauls him down back on top of him. “That’s quite a bit drastic,” he parrots back. “Could you sound more posh, Styles, honestly.”

Harry makes a face at him.

“I have it on good authority you love it,” calls Liana, from where she’s wrapped up in Tiamat’s embrace.

Louis lets go of one of Harry’s hands to flip her off.

“Honestly, though, Lou,” says Harry. “Skinning?”

“Well what else did you have in mind?” asks Louis, throwing his hands up in the air. He tugs Harry’s along with him. “Me walking around with you sat on my dick or summat?”

“I _was_ thinking you walking around with me sat on your dick or summat,” agrees Harry, sounding pleased. “How did you guess?”

Louis rolls his eyes at him and shoots him an expectant look. “Please, Harry, haven’t you heard? We’re practically married.” He’d use air quotes, but that feels like a bit much.

Harry rolls his eyes fondly again and turns out his pockets to reveal a packet of lube.

Louis blinks back at him like he’s not turned on.

“What?” The tips of Harry’s ears are very red. “You’re fucking fit you know?”

Louis drops his hands back down to the braces he’s still got on. “Am I?” he says.

Harry drops the lube onto Louis’ stomach. “Yes.” He reaches down and undoes his flies. “You are.”

“Hmm,” Louis says, letting his eyes fall half-lidded.

Harry gets his trousers down off his legs and eyes Louis’ pants balefully, before tugging on his boxers. “The fittest,” he decides, reaching for the lube.

Louis beats him to it, knocking his hands out the way and ripping the packet open so he can wet two fingers. “Well?” he says. “You coming up here anytime soon?”

Harry ends up poised above Louis, thigh tensed on either side of Louis’ hips, worrying his bottom lip and staring hard down at the line of elastic running parallel along his chest. “You’re really fucking _fit_ ,” he says again, reaching down to play with one of the braces.

Louis takes the opportunity to press one finger into him, grinning when Harry whines in the back of his throat and fumbles a palm down to land against the center of his chest.

“Louis,” he says.

Louis crooks his finger ever so slightly in response. “Mmm?” he says.

“Fuck me,” Harry says breathless, rocking back on Louis’ finger. “Please.”

He crosses his wrists in front of his cock and dimples down at Louis like a bloody angel.

“You’re sin, Harry Styles,” Louis tells him, cursing and scrambling for better leverage on the bed, shifting Harry around so that he’s essentially in his lap and adding another finger. “Absolute sin.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, head tipped back.

Louis leans forward to bite at his neck. “Sin,” he tells the skin there.

“Yeah, well.” Harry sounds sleepy, drunk on arousal. “I’m not the one wearing braces and pants and _nothing else_.”

Louis’ heart stutters to a very near stop at the image of that, Harry as he is, naked, lovely, draped across Louis’ thighs, with his very own pair of braces covering up his nipples. “No,” he says finally, when Harry cracks open an eye and makes an disappointed noise. He curls both of his fingers until Harry moans, unabashed and unashamed. “We should fix that.”

“You’re not--Lou,” says Harry, panting in earnest now as Louis works a third finger up against his prostate and stays there for agonizing seconds. “We’re not--we’re not fixing that---n _ow_ \--are we?”

Louis hums a little and glances down at where Harry’s cock is curved up towards his belly, red and untouched.

“ _Are we_?” Harry continues sounding desperate. “Lou?”

Louis snaps out of it in an instant, pulling his hand back so that he can go for the condom he knows he’s got stashed on the bedside drawer.

Before he can get there, however, Harry is grabbing him by the wrist and holding him still.

“Hazza,” Louis tells him. “I’m not going to stop--”

“Don’t,” interrupts Harry. “Don’t use it.”

Louis pauses, heart thudding in his chest. “What?”

“We don’t need it,” says Harry, sounding shy. “I want to feel you.”

“Harry,” Louis starts to say.

“You’re the only one I’ve been with, Lou,” Harry explains. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

It’s not actually that big of a deal--not like he’s been with anyone else _either_ , really--and Louis’ been rock hard since he caught on to what Harry wanted from him, but. He glances down at the condom for another moment.

“Please?” says Harry, sounding hesitant. “Please.”

And Louis has never been able to tell him no, has he, so he heaves out an over-dramatic sigh and tumbles Harry onto the bed in a pile of limbs and covers him with kisses. “Alright, _fine_ , Harold,” he says, as Harry grins and giggles up at him. “ _Fine._ ” He raises one eyebrow. “Don’t come yelling to me when you’ve got come leaking out your arse, though alright?”

“Now who’s killed the mood,” says Harry, but he’s got his hands curled around the back of Louis’ neck and his dimples out in full force, so Louis doesn’t think he minds, all that much.

He minds that much less several minutes later, when Louis rolls them over and has Harry ride him for all that he’s worth. “See?” he says, voice cracking in all sorts of places, as Louis makes a frustrated noise and unhooks one of the braces. “Mood officially murdered.”

“Right,” Louis replies, reaching up to yank gently at Harry’s hair. “Is it haunting us, then?”

“Yep,” moans Harry. “Yes--it’s a ghost, now.”

“It’s a bloody voyeuristic ghost,” Louis manages, before words like voyeuristic become too much for his brain to handle, and he’s muffling a scream in Harry’s neck.

“You didn’t actually kill the mood,” Harry tells him a few minutes later, when they’re lying tangled together in the dark.

“Good night, Harold,” Louis says, but fondly, with his hands in Harry’s hair, and his lips pressed against his temple. “Love you.”

\--

Hannah calls him on a Sunday two days before they’re due to be on Chatty Man with Alan Carr. It’s their first time on the show--first time on a real talk show as a band proper, so Louis’d actually been in the process of rehearsing for it, which meant that he was sat on his and Harry’s sofa with Tiamat in front of him trying not to laugh at his daemon’s increasingly worse impressions of Alan Carr.

“I actually think you’ve gone and done Graham Norton,” Louis is in the middle of telling her, having abandoning the flashcards one of their press aides had sent over when Louis had started showing even the faintest hint of interest in their media training.

They’re scattered across the sofa and the coffee table and Louis picks the one up that simply says ‘ _talk about LA_ ’ and balances it on Tiamat’s nose, even as his daemon says, “I don’t look anything like a Toucan.”

“Hello?” says Louis, ignoring her in favor of answering his mobile. “Hannah?”

He goes to lean back against the sofa and winces at the way his muscles pull at that. He’s still a little sore from his and the lads’ little Laser Quest adventure the day before, where Louis only lost because Tiamat was gigantic and kept getting distracted by the flashing lights. Also, Liana was a fucking cheat who kept waltzing up towards Louis with her eyes all big like she’d gone and gotten her tail trampled on or something, and Louis would stop, because Liana’s big _fucking_ eyes, only for Harry to leap out from walls and the like to shoot him in the bloody chest, arm, shoulders, and back. 

There’s a rather telling pause on the other end of the line, before Hannah answers him, sounding falsely chipper. “Hi, Lou,” she says quietly.

Louis sits more heavily back against the sofa, ignores the pain, and frowns. “Are you alright, love?” he says, honestly concerned. He hasn’t seen Hannah in ages--not since the end of X-Factor, at least, which was more to do with him having his head up his arse than anything else.

“I’m not really your love, am I,” snaps Hannah, and Louis’ stomach drops.

“Oh,” he says, whatever happy energy that he and Tiamat had cultivated in the room dying with a quick fizzle.

“Sorry,” says Hannah, sounding it. “I’m sorry, Louis, I know it’s not your--”

“How are you?” Louis interrupts, before she can finish that sentence. His insides feel like worms, or like someone’s gone and stuck a white hot poker in and twisted until he can’t remember what he’s supposed to feel like. He’s not thinking about how Hannah’s voice reminds him of his mum when she was telling him about how she and Mark weren’t going to be together anymore. He’s not thinking about what that means for the people on the other end of the phone who’ve started talking about press and media and girlfriends. He’s not thinking about what it means for him and Harry to be together and in the band. He’s not thinking about any of that.

“I’m good, yeah,” says Hannah, less broken sounding. “Um. Stan said you were home?”

Louis swallows heavily. “Yeah--just for a few days,” he explains. “Wanted to see mum and the girls.”

“How are they?” says Hannah. “Mum.” She pauses for a while. “And the girls?”

Louis tries not to think about how just the other day he and Liana had been having a very serious conversation about Mum and the girls, and how nothing about that had been awkward. Louis feels awful.

“Good,” he says, trying for normal. “Listen, um, Hannah--”

“I met someone, Lou,” Hannah interrupts, before Louis can say anything else. “I met someone and he’s like--”

“Special,” says Anselm, and Tiamat physically flinches from where she’s still sat on the floor. His voice is deeper than Louis remembers it being, because Louis never had any decorum when he was a teenager and he and Hannah had been too wrapped up in what they thought was true love to care about societal norms.

He’s spoken to Anselm, looked him in the eye and told him quite seriously that even though he was near a hundred percent sure Tiamat was going to be a feline of _some sort_ , that wasn’t going to ruin their relationship.

“Yeah,” says Hannah, agreeing with her daemon. “But, um, that’s not all that important, is it. Tell me about you? You were filming your music video the other day?” She’s definitely trying to smile. “Yesterday was the anniversary of One Direction wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, heart thudding in his chest. “Hannah.”

“I’m really proud of you, Lou, you know?” she says, and like, that’s.

He’d done all the right things with Hannah, from the horrible photos taken in front of the mirror to the late night phone calls when he was waiting to be sent home from bootcamp, and every inch of Louis is screaming at him to hang up the phone. To run away. To pretend none of this is happening and to ignore the contracts he’s gone and signed and show up outside wherever Harry’s buggered off to and refuse to let go of him ever.

But he can’t, and he won’t, because he’d done all the right things with Hannah, sure, but he’d also come home to her in the middle of the night having been snogging somebody else for _nearly a week_ and asked her to stay with him anyway.

Louis remembers her standing just inside the door when he’d stumbled into his mum’s house in the middle of the X-Factor, tight lipped and with red-rimmed eyes, because she’d only had to hear him talk about Harry for a _second_ and she knew. He remembers the way Anselm had started shaking in her arms, because for once Tiamat couldn’t make herself smaller to say hello. He remembers the hug she gave him when they hadn’t won and they were all back in London trying to decide if they were going to stay together. He remembers when she decided she’d keep dating him.

“We should break up,” he says.

Hannah goes abruptly silent. “Louis,” she starts to say.

“No, hear me out,” says Louis, shifting his legs to the side on the sofa so that Tiamat can climb up beside him and press into his side. “It’ll be, like, better for both of us--you’re--” He swallows. “You’re nineteen, Hannah, and I--I didn’t even call you on your _birthday_.”

Hannah sounds like she’s shrugging. “I mean you were a bit busy, weren’t you?” she says, and Louis laughs, because that’s the Hannah he started dating in the first place. Charming, snarky, and sarcastic enough to keep up with him. If he’d never auditioned for X-Factor and he’d never gone into that damn toilet, he thinks she could have kept up with him for the rest of his life.

“That’s a lie,” says Tiamat, into the silence of the room. “Doncaster’s not that far from Cheshire--we’d have all ended up at Manchester, anyway, and if we were both at _The Script_ , well.” She shrugs.

Louis swallows hard. “That’s an awful excuse,” he says.

Hannah sighs. “Lou,” she starts to say.

“We’re going to America, babe,” Louis interrupts, before she can finish. Tiamat makes a face at the term of endearment but Louis keeps going anyway. “We’re going to America and then we’re going to take over the fucking world and I--” He doesn’t know what to say. _I’m sorry_ seems the most appropriate, but he doesn’t think he could say he was sorry enough for that to mean anything, at this point. Hannah deserves more than _I’m sorry_.

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, babe,” says Hannah, but she sounds watery over the phone.

“Still,” Louis gets out, and he will not cry. Not now. Not over this. “It’s not fair to you.”

Hannah laughs at him, definitely tearing up. “Look at you,” she says. “All proper grown up and adult, now.”

Louis manages a laugh as well. “Fame has corrupted me, I know,” he says.

 “Feels like it was just yesterday you were phoning me because you were worried you were going to get sent home.” She doesn’t mention how Louis’d ended up rambling on for ages about the curly haired boy he’d met in the loo. Louis doesn’t know what he did to deserve her.

“What can I say,” he says. “I’m a celebrity, now.”

“Proper famous,” says Hannah.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

There’s a moment of silence. “Do you want me to tweet about it?” Hannah says finally. “Blah blah blah we’re still friends etcetera?”

Louis glances down at the flash cards scattered about his living room, and of the piece of paper with his twitter password written down on it. “Yeah,” he says. “Please.”

‘[Don't get caught up in this Louis/Hannah thing. We're both happy and still best friends. Thank you so much for all your lovely messages x](https://twitter.com/h_walker1/status/95109743588282369),’ Hannah tweets, a few moments later.

 ‘[Best, best friends. Always x](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/95135678119161856),’ Louis replies, two hours later, one messy phone call and cry in the toilet later.

\--

“So I hear you’re a single lad, now,” Harry says when Louis wanders into their bedroom later that night. He’s on his laptop, bare-chested, and for most of Louis’ shower he had been loudly complaining about Louis’ taste in music, which was just rude, honestly, since Louis has put up with some truly hipster selections whenever Harry decides to do karaoke for their morning showers. So he might have started singing _What Makes You Beautiful_ and Harry might have started singing along and Louis might have silently wished Tiamat had opposable thumbs so she could go record that on his phone so he could have it for always. They’d sounded really good together, even without the rest of the lads. Louis’ stomach had gone all swoopy.

“What?” he says, blinking water out of his eyes and reaching for a towel.

“You,” says Harry, not looking up from the screen of his computer. “Single.”

Louis blinks and covers his hair with the towel “Erm,” he says. “Yeah, I guess?”

“Hmmm.” Harry taps away at his laptop. “How’s that working out for you?”

Louis stares at him for a long moment. “Hazza,” he says slowly. “You know I’m not really single, yeah?” he asks. “Like--unless you’re breaking up with me--”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Harry snaps, finally meeting Louis’ eyes. He looks angry and sad and torn and like he might have cried if Louis’d come out a few seconds earlier. Liana is wrapped around his neck and equally upset, the angry set to her mouth visible across the entire room.

Louis blinks. “Okay?” he says, still confused. “Yay?”

Tiamat seems equally taken aback, tail lashing back and forth angrily where she’s pressed herself flat to Louis’ bare leg. He’s still stood in the middle of their bedroom naked with a towel covering most of his head, which isn’t helping matters.

“Were they pissed off with you?” Harry says, breaking the silence. “Or did they tell you to do it?”

“About Hannah and me?” Louis asks, still off center. “No, but like, she was miserable, H, and I couldn’t--”

Liana mutters something that sounds worryingly like she’s the one miserable now, but Louis can’t hear her from as far away as he is. He doesn’t think he wants to know if that’s what she actually said. He swallows, and tries again.

“It wasn’t fair to her to make her pretend when the band about to be so very public,” he tries to explain. There’s no easy way to explain the way Hannah’s face from that night had eaten away at him; how it still does whenever he lets himself think about it.

Harry honest-to-God scoffs, before turning his attention back to his laptop, which he types away angrily on.

Louis very quietly pulls the towel down to cover his face, takes a deep breath, and then wraps it around his waist. “H,” he says. “Are you angry with me--?”

“I’m not angry with you,” Harry says before he can finish, quickly and with a wild stab of panic in his eyes. “Don’t go--”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis says slowly. “Harry.”

“How was your day?” says Harry, desperation showing around the whites of his eyes. He doesn’t say please, but Louis hears it clear as day.

He heads over towards their wardrobe to grab boxers. “Erm, well, aside from that, quite dull, actually,” he says. “I mean.” He pauses and frowns. “You were there for most of it.”

Harry doesn’t look quite so much liked a scared animal, but there are tiny pink marks on his bare skin where Liana’s claws had dug in. Louis tries not to think about licking them and pulls on his pants.

“Anyway,” he says, dropping the towel in the middle of the floor and then grinning when Harry makes a face. “Are you done being jealous or have I showered for nothing?” Louis shakes his fringe out of his eyes and then shivers when a droplet of water goes creeping down his chest, Harry’s eyes following it without even attempting to hide his blatant ogling.

“I’m not,” he starts to say, voice much louder than it needs to be. “I’m not jealous,” Harry finishes, grumbling to himself.

Louis strides over to the bed, nudges the laptop off of Harry’s lap, and sinks down in its place. “You seem a bit jealous to me,” he says. “Pumpkin.”

Harry’s lips quirk up despite himself. “I can’t believe you forgot my [armbands](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/91588353409028096),” he says, hands settling onto Louis’ hips.

Louis shakes his head at him. “Well it wasn’t like I was going to let you drown,” he points out.

Harry slides his hands up to touch bare skin. “I specifically told you--” he starts to say.

“Harry,” Louis says, reaching down to cup his dick. “Please stop talking.”

Harry blinks up at him dazedly for a few moments. “I’m not jealous,” he repeats, petting over Louis’ sides again. “I just.” He pauses. “It would be easier if we--”

“They want me to get another girlfriend,” Louis blurts out, before Harry can finish that.

Harry pauses. “Oh?” he says, a bit hoarse.

Louis bites at his lip. “I told them I’d think about it,” he says quietly. “I wanted to talk about it with you.”

“They want me to start mentioning Caroline Flack,” says Harry, not meeting his eyes. “Well, not Caroline Flack specifically--just, they were asking if I thought anyone was attractive, I guess and Caroline Flack is fit enough.” He shrugs, and doesn’t follow it up with anything about telling them to wait. He doesn’t say anything about when this conversation happened.

Louis’ chest feels like it’s gone and caved in.

“Oh?” he manages, a bit hoarse. “Caroline’s nice.” He swallows. “Fit, I mean.” Her daemon, Hesiod, had spent most of Louis’ time at X-Factor fluttering around making Tiamat (and by proxy, Louis) dizzy and irritable.

Harry still won’t meet his eyes. “I guess,” he says.

Louis very gently leans down so they can bump noses. “Hey,” he says. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He means to be reassuring, because while he hadn’t been so sold on the idea of another girlfriend, it couldn’t be all that awful, probably, since it wasn’t like anyone was making it out like it was going to be a long time thing, and it wasn’t like Louis hadn’t minded being officially Hannah’s for most of their career.

Harry tries to pull back from him as best he can when he’s lying on a bed with Louis in his lap. “Fine,” he says, quite a bit harsher than Louis had been expecting. “Goodnight, then.”

Louis blinks, stunned, as Harry rolls over and reaches over to shut his laptop, before turning onto his side and closing his eyes. “Hazza?” he says after a moment, into the silence.

Harry lasts about three more seconds before he sighs and wraps his arms around Louis in a bone crushing type hug. Then he rolls them both over so he can better cuddle the life out of Louis, fumbling around with one hand until he finds Tiamat and making a pleased noise when Louis jolts in response. “I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I love you.”

Louis very tentatively reaches out to pet his curls behind his ears. “I love you too,” he says slowly, a bit confused. “Harry--”

Harry squeezes him harder.

“Right,” Louis says, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s temple.

\--

Louis gets pulled aside before they leave for [Alan Carr](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbsswBVUXJk) and told in no uncertain terms that he is not to sit next to Harry in the car on the ride over. He takes it because he signed on the dotted line, but he’s left standing on his own in the hotel lobby, chewing through his bottom lip while Tiamat cycles through rage, horror, and finally resignation.

Zayn sidles up to him when Louis’ been left alone, wearing a red hoodie with his hands stuck in the front pocket. “You alright, bro?” he says.

On his shoulder, Fi chitters a bit nervously, muttering something in Zayn’s ear.

“Not really, no,” Louis says, because they’ve never really lied to each other once since getting out of X-Factor house.

“Ah,” says Zayn, because they’ve never really talked about their feelings to each other since getting out of the X-Factor house. Aside from that one time Louis cried all over Zayn. And then Liam. And also Niall. But not Harry. Regardless, Louis doesn’t really want to talk about it.

“Yeah,” he says, because that’s really all there is to it. Someone hands him a camera and tells him to talk about their journey for a behind the scenes video, and Louis sighs but nods along.

Zayn continues to stare at him with his hand stuffed in that one pocket and an odd look on his face. “You and Harry make me believe in love, you know that, right, Tommo?” he says, which is entirely too sentimental for a Wednesday morning.

“Erm,” says Louis.

“Like.” Zayn shrugs. “No matter how much we tease you.”

“You tease us quite a lot,” points out Tiamat, sounding less bothered and more amused. Her ears are still a bit flat. “To be fair.”

“You sound like Liam,” retorts Fikriyya.

Tiamat sticks her tongue out at her.

“Thank you?” Louis tries, uncertain. “Zayn--”

“Sit next to him when we’re there,” Zayn interrupts, with a wry grin. “I’ll distract Paul.”

Louis blinks at him. “You’ll distract Paul,” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Paul.” He pauses. “Hulking, hawk daemon having, all knowing Paul.”

“I don’t think Paul’s all knowing,” mutters Tiamat.

Louis elbows her in the nose.

“It can’t be that hard,” says Zayn.

Louis hefts the camera in his hand and debates throwing it in the air. He thinks he might give their production team a heart attack, however, so he decides not to. They’re all being herded towards the car anyway, Louis being pointed at so that he’s well aware of the filming thing.

He turns to Zayn, and says with as much conviction as possible, “You ready?”

Zayn’s lips twitch at his horrible Justin Timberlake impression. “Alan seems nice enough,” he says.

“It’ll be fun,” Fi agrees. “It’s a real chat show.”

Louis grins at her enthusiasm. “You think he’ll make you dance?”

“No,” says Zayn, trying to look cross, but mostly just grinning.

“If he does you have to,” says Louis, trying to work out a way to get a message to Alan. “No take backs.”

“Fine,” says Zayn. “If Alan Carr challenges me to a dance off I’ll accept,” he says.

“Good,” Louis retorts, crossing his arms and full on grinning. “Shake on it?”

Zayn rolls his eyes but extends his hand anyway, and Fi slaps a paw against Tiamat’s shoulder with a roll of her eyes.

“Awesome,” says Louis. “I’m really gonna enjoy this.”

Zayn looks like he wants to keep talking, but before he can, Paul comes wandering by to usher them all out to the car, where Louis gets in the back next to Zayn without meeting Harry’s eyes.

He doesn’t sit next to Harry on the sofa, because no matter how hard Zayn tries to get Paul’s attention, Harry is being sent out first, and then Zayn after him, and Louis ends up letting Niall and Liam go before him. Somehow that distance feels monumental, Harry stuck on one end of the sofa and Louis on the other, and no manner of well timed jokes and jabs at their age can make up for that. Louis smiles anyway, because he’s bloody professional and Alan Carr is honestly hilarious, and Tiamat only chews through one of his shoelaces.

Zayn dances, however, so there’s that.

\--

“You alright?” Louis asks Harry, when they get held up after filming the show to say a [goodbye message](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLXwwuDzzv0) for the behind the scenes video. He worms his way in between Zayn and Harry, pressing in close to the younger lad’s side and daring anyone to say otherwise. No one’s come and yelled at them about being too close to one another or looking too fond, and Tiamat being dead on her feet is excuse enough for the fact that most of the other boys’ daemons are piled against her at their feet; it’s not like the camera can see that anyway. Still, out of the corner of his eyes, Louis can see their team looking less than pleased.

“We were actually there, you know,” says Louis’ daemon, but she’s fond.

 _Louis_ is fond. Every inch of him wants to cuddle up in Harry’s arms and soak up his attention like a sponge. Sitting on a sofa almost next to Harry but not quite hadn’t done anything to help with that.

“Yeah,” says Harry, slightly more subdued than Louis would have liked.

“You were very charming,” Louis tells him seriously, smiling up at him like the love-sick fool he is. He’s aiming for reassuring.

Harry grins at him, dimples flashing briefly in his cheeks. “Yes, well, you’re biased,” he replies.

Louis rolls his eyes and pinches the bit of him he’s touching. It would look awkward if he and Harry weren’t as pressed together as the rest of them, and Louis is thankful for the fact that the other boys have spread themselves out across the shot so Harry and Louis have to be smooshed in to stay in frame.

“Hey,” Harry says, still smiling. His voice isn’t his usual volume yet, but it’s better. Louis steps in even closer.

He realizes about two seconds after that he’d been about to kiss Harry, on a reflex, unable to help himself, and stops only when Zayn’s grip on his other side tightens and Tiamat unseats Liana and Fikriyya in her haste to get upright.

“Lou,” she warns, eyes flashing around the room. 

“Right, sorry,” Louis says to her and also to the other lads; he’s not sure if he wants to look at Harry, who’s smile has dimmed, he’s sure. He fixes the camera with a smile. It only wilts a little as Niall starts talking, and it’s Harry’s thumb stroking across his back that keeps it from becoming a grimace as he leads the four of them in a parody of Niall’s accent.

“Arsehole,” Niall tells him when they’ve stopped filming and are being herded back towards the car.

“You love me,” Louis tells Niall, quick to ignore the way Harry is stood in front of him talking to Liam and pointedly not looking back.

“Not sure why, though,” says Niall, shaking his head. “You’re a menace.”

Louis grabs him in a headlock on the way out the building.

\--

“Hey, Lou,” says Zayn once Louis’ draped himself over his legs and groaned loudly at the ceiling. He’d been on his laptop when Louis had finished sneaking into the room with a bemused Tiamat on his heels, but he hasn’t stopped doing whatever even as Louis shifts around so that he’s better resting across most of him.

“Harry’s leaving me,” he says, mostly to the ceiling. Harry’s been planning to go home and see his mum for the next few days, which Louis would never begrudge him of, but also means that Louis’ got the next three days all to himself.

Zayn just keeps typing on his computer. “Who gave you a key?” he asks.

Louis settles more firmly into Zayn’s bony sides. “Liam,” he replies. “Payno’s really gotta work on not getting pickpocketed. What if he was carrying something important like his phone?”

On the floor, Tiamat starts stalking Fikriyya, who’d vacated the bed as soon as she realized it was Louis sneaking into the room.

“I think if you tried to nick Liam’s phone he would knock you out, Tommo,” Zayn says dryly, shifting a little under Louis’ weight so he can continue typing away on his laptop. “And then you’d come to in casualty and he end up apologizing profusely.”

“What a field day the media would have,” says Louis.

Tiamat makes a triumphant noise and Louis thinks she must have successfully pinned Fi to the floor, because Zayn’s muscles tighten subconsciously and his daemon starts wailing blue murder.

“Louis William Tomlinson get _off me_!” shouts Fikriyya, and Louis misses the days when he’d strike up a conversation with Liana and only Harry would go fond, because he may not act like it most days but he is in fact the elder of this band. He should be respected by daemons and people alike.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells Fi, who continues struggling, breaking free with an equally triumphant sounding noise.

“Piss off,” she says, sounding out of breath. She leaps back up onto the bed and comes prowling towards Louis and Zayn, delicately picking her way around Louis’ limbs so that she can settle close enough to Zayn to touch.

Louis is seriously considering the pros and cons of grabbing her around the middle to see if she’s a) as soft as she looks and b) to see what Zayn would do. Which is probably a worrying train of thought, because Louis knows as well as the next person that that is simply not done; Louis’ been lectured on that more times than he’d like to think about.

He’s saved from that ending by Zayn reaching out and lifting his daemon away from Louis’ reach, settling her on his head and shoving Louis off his lap.

“Zayn,” Louis whines, as he goes sprawling where Zayn’s shoved him. “Entertain me.”

Zayn sighs, shakes his head, and doesn’t close his laptop.

There’s a pause.

“You wanna fuck with management?” says Zayn.

“Always, ” Louis says promptly, sitting up a bit straighter. “But how?”

Zayn stares at him for a long moment, and grins.

Which is how the two of them spend the next few minutes cackling to one another and [tweeting](http://onedinection.tumblr.com/post/8218487823/for-those-who-asked-for-the-tweets-from-this) [from the official One Direction Twitter](http://onedinection.tumblr.com/post/8218697973/these-arent-tweets-from-the-boys).

“Louis,” says Zayn, several minutes in. “Have you just gone and quoted _Mean Girls_?”

Louis throws up his hands and says in his poshest voice, “Why yes, Zayn, I have.” His poshest voice actually turns out to be something of a Harry impression, minus the slow crawl to his words and the tendency towards rambling. Louis doesn’t know what to do with that.

Tiamat looks like she wants to answer, but Louis ignores her.

“Have you got a problem with _Mean Girls,_ Malik?” he asks instead.

“No.” Zayn looks amused. “Quick, answer that one, next.”

Louis turns his attention back to the laptop and opens up a reply to the fan’s tweet, tongue poking out from between his teeth and brow furrowing. “Has ‘Mufasa’ got an ‘o’, you think?” he says, somewhat redundantly, hitting send.

“No,” says Fikiryya, but she’s giggling.

“Woops,” says Louis.

He’s not sure how it devolves exactly, but one moment he and Zayn are giggling over movie quotes and fan reactions, and the next they’re [tweeting actual stuff](http://alarrytale.tumblr.com/post/73009505904/that-time-one-direction-went-rogue-on-the-onedirection) that’s going to have actual repercussions.

Louis ends up stuck on Twitcam duty for damage control, which he does with as much aplomb as he can manage, and rambles on about Harry’s ‘[nice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WErdF-2-QA) [little body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mb5Uwg9fdpc)’ for good measure. He gets a less than pleased email about that, which he ignores with quite a lot of vengeance, and when Harry refuses to respond to his text messages since he’s home in Cheshire and not in London with Louis, he turns to face Stan, who’s sat on his bed with Acacia braiding his hair into ridiculous braids.

“You fancy a trip to Ibiza?” he says, apropos of nothing, when Stan raises an eyebrow at him like Louis is the ridiculous one.

“Sure,” says Stan.

They go to Ibiza.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely amodestfarce made an amazing edit that I’m using for the [masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/100923264745/fic-i-need-you-here-with-me-now) that everyone should totally go reblog. Totally. August pending. See you all when that happens.


	8. August 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. I just wanted to reiterate that I do not own the concept of daemons because people were telling me about other daemon aus and I just wanted to make sure that was clear. This is the only one I’ve written and it is entirely my own. Right, that said, credit to [my timeline](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/timeline-2011) (and everyone involved with that) as well as this super helpful [post](http://alarrytale.tumblr.com/post/66198789041/louis-and-harry-at-leeds-festival-2011-a-masterpost) about Leeds. 
> 
> EVERYONE SHOULD LISTEN TO 18 FOR THE LAST SCENE.
> 
> Betaed by Vic, Melanie, and Sabrina. Britpicked by Jess. All other mistakes are my own.

**August 2011**

\--

The first thing Liam says when they arrive on set for the [Heatworld](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gP5K7uoS8KU) photoshoot is, “Do not get in the pool.”

He’s clearly talking to Louis, because Harry, Niall, and Zayn are already being ushered into hair and make-up, and while Louis had been debating the merits of getting in the pool despite Tiamat’s aversion and Harry’s tendency to go flailing after him in all things, he’s not about to admit that. “Why, Liam,” he says, slapping a hand to the center of his chest. “What are you even _suggesting_?”

Liam doesn’t look very impressed, which is probably a testament to how close they’ve become. “You haven’t got any other clothes,” he says reasonably. “If you get in the pool, you’ll have ruined your only clothes.”

Louis swivels his head around to look at the selection of outfits laid out for the five of them.

Liam doesn’t bat an eyelash. “You cannot nick the clothes for the photoshoot.”

Louis scoffs. “Harry would let me borrow his clothes,” he says. “Right, Haz?”

Harry’s head comes up, hair flopping around in the slight breeze, cheeks faintly pink. He’d been whispering frantically to Liana while in make-up getting dabbed all over with foundation, but he very quickly zeroes in on Louis’ face. “Yes,” he says promptly. “What am I agreeing to?”

“Letting me borrow your clothes should mine get ruined in the pool,” says Louis.

“Ah.” Harry doesn’t seem fazed. “Yeah, ‘course, Lou,” he says.

“Harry cannot lend you his clothes,” says Liam. “We cannot walk out of this photoshoot with you in Harry’s clothes and him naked.”

Louis cocks his head to the side.

“Spoilsport,” says Tiamat, shoving into Bethania’s side a few times. “You never let us have any fun.”

“You can all get in the pool later,” announces Paul, lifting his head from where he’s been discussing official sounding things in the corner. He waves at Louis and Liam, who are still not quite inside the make-up tent. “Now get moving.”

Louis sticks his tongue out at Paul.

Nuada stares back at him in an uncanny, hawk-like manner.

“She’s a bloody hawk,” points out Tiamat. “Everything she does is bloody hawk-like.” She sounds personally offended at Louis’ rather inane inner thoughts. It’s ridiculous, because Louis knows for a fact that just two seconds earlier she was debating eating a ladybird. Before he can say as much, he’s the one set upon by hair and make-up. Louis submits to the preening with only a little sigh, easily distracted by Harry who’s gone and introduced himself to everything and everyone on set, Liana weaving in and out of his legs.

When he notices Louis’ gaze, Harry waves, glowing around the edges. Louis waves back, unable to help himself.

“You are ridiculous,” says Zayn, coming to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder just as Louis is deemed perfectly done up for the photoshoot.

Louis ignores him in favor of watching Harry’s progress across the lawn, waiting to see how long it’ll take for the younger lad to stop tripping over his daemon and simply pick her up.

 “No, really.” Zayn shifts a little so his chin can just dig in. “Ridiculous.”

Niall pops up on Louis’ other side. “Who’s ridiculous?”

“Tommo,” says Zayn.

“Ah, yeah,” says Niall. “Why’s Tommo ridiculous this time?”

“This time?” repeats Louis, glancing around at Tiamat, Eirian, and Fikriyya.

“Hey, Harry!” shouts Zayn, startling Louis, who jumps in surprise.

Harry tilts his head towards Zayn curiously, and Louis doesn’t sigh, but it’s a near thing. It’s not his fault though, because Harry’s been put in an absolutely sinful blue shirt and khakis, and Louis just wants to shove him in the pool to see it turn see-through. In  fact...

He turns to Liam with a glint in his eyes.

“You may not push anyone into the pool,” says Liam, not looking up from his phone.

Louis drops his mouth open and turns back around to face Niall, who just laughs at him. “Aw, Tommo, don’t worry,” he says, leaning in to wrap an arm around Louis’ neck, avoiding Zayn’s face barely. “It’s sweet how much you love him.”

Louis colors slightly and pouts, because he can’t very well say he _doesn’t_ love Harry, can he.

“Nope,” says Tiamat. “I would disown you.”

“Technically I don’t think you can disown me,” says Louis. “Not without harming yourself.”

“Mmm.” His daemon flicks an ear back. “But you admit I do own you.”

“No,” Louis replies promptly, as Harry finishes saying hello to everyone and comes over to fit himself into their mini group hug. “He does, though.”

“Mmm?” says Harry, shifting an arm so that Liana can run down onto Tiamat’s back.

“Nothing,” says Louis, reaching up so that he can drag Zayn, Niall, and Harry better into his clutches. _I’m yours_ , he thinks, as Liam abandons his phone with mock offense, and comes over to hug them all as well. They get a bit unsteady when he does that, because there are five of them, and their daemons are halfway into the hug as well, and it only takes Zayn deciding to tickle Louis for them to be lying in a pile together.

“Ow,” says Harry, from somewhere under Louis’ left armpit.

“Ow,” Louis agrees.

“You’re ticklish?” says Zayn.

“Fuck off,” says Louis.

“Haha, ticklish,” says Niall, and tickles whatever part of Louis he can reach. Louis twitches, doesn’t laugh, and vows that the next time they’re in a car together he is going to drag Niall into the back seat and take his shoes off.

“Why is this my life?” Liam asks no one in particular, but he sounds charmed.

Louis fumbles through the sea of bodies till he finds what he thinks is Liam’s shoulder. He gives it a pat. “You love us, Payno,” he says.

There’s a pause. “Yeah,” says Liam, a bit hoarsely. “Loads.”

Louis pats him on the shoulder again. “I know,” he says.

There’s another pause. “That’s my bum,” says Liam, finally. “By the way.”

They all fall silent.

“How dare you,” Harry says finally. “I will not be cheated on by the likes of you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis gives Liam’s arse a final squeeze, grins when Liam yelps, and rolls around on what he thinks is Zayn so that he can stare down at Harry. “Oh?” he says. “What are you going to do about it.”

Harry grins back at him, and goes to open his mouth.

“Absolutely not,” says Zayn. “Not while we’re lying in a damn puppy pile.”

“Technically only one of us is a puppy,” Liam starts to say, before Louis reaches back to grab smack him on the bum.

“Hush, Payne,” he says. “Hush.”

There’s a beat.

“Um, Louis?” Liam’s voice is terribly high. “Are you going to stop groping me anytime soon?”

Louis shoots Harry an amused look. “Hmm?” he says, shooting for nonchalance.

“Right.” Liam swallows. “Okay then.”

None of them breathe.

Someone snaps a photo.

Louis wonders if that one is going to make the official cut.

\--

They get pulled aside before the final photographs to answer Twitter questions from fans. Harry ends up near to the pool, Zayn gets sat down in the grass, and Liam and Niall settle into two of the chairs across from Zayn. Louis ends up inside sat in front of what he thinks might be a music stand, with a paper of questions and instructions to read them out and answer them. [Niall’d](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqMuJdxKiuc) gone first, going on about how Louis had the biggest ego in the band, then [Liam](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abCTR_y5svQ), who said he’d eat Zayn if they ended up stuck in a zombie apocalypse, and finally [Zayn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mugB58Q_U4) and [Harry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2CkIbuJjoU), who Louis hadn’t gotten to overhear because he’d been in the middle of getting ready for more photos.

The most he knew was that one of their anonymous fans on Twitter had asked Harry to describe his dream girl, because that was the first thing Liana’d gone on to say once they’d rejoined Louis in watching Zayn kick a football around on the grassy stretch next to the pool. Of course, Harry’d curbed that discussion quite quickly, wandering off to nick Zayn’s hat just as their bandmate was scoring on an imaginary goal. He’d given it back near instantly, but Louis had been left standing where Liana had left him, blinking, and more than a little confused.

The questions themselves aren’t all that bad, actually, and seeing as they come from actual real life fans, Louis isn’t all that bothered, but it’s still a bit weird to be rambling on to Tiamat with a camera crew in place. He gets through the first one easy enough, barely stumbles over “I love Larry Stylinson” and finishes up with [something](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8FI4nZIR_8) he thinks comes across as inspirational.

“You’re an idiot,” says Tiamat before the camera finishes rolling, but she says it fondly.

Louis doesn’t stop smiling up at the screen but kicks her in the side.

“Ow,” she says. “Thanks.”

No one gives any indication of wanting the two of them to stop, so Louis doesn’t look away from the lens but says, “I’m inspirational.”

“Right.” Tiamat sounds incredibly impressed. “Hang on--is that _Lady Gaga_ playing?” She cocks her head to the side a bit, and Louis focuses on the background music abruptly.

Harry, who had been posing for photos for the entirety of Louis’ segment, breaks whatever character he’d gotten into as soon as he hears Tiamat and breaks out into a startled bark of laughter.

Louis’ smile breaks as well, the camera goes off, and he turns just in time to catch Liana put her paws on Harry’s chest and glare at him.

“Sorry, sorry,” says Harry, waving his hands around but somehow not dropping Liana on the floor. “Can we go again?”

“It’s definitely Lady Gaga,” says Tiamat, just as Harry’s settled his face into something serious and the first few flashes have gone off. “We’re giving life advice to Lady Gaga.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Louis feels something terribly warm settle into the pit of his stomach. “Not only that but to _Bad Romance_ ,” he says, as the song tapers to the end. “You know the French?”

Tiamat swats at him with a paw. “Stop gawking at Harry and asking redundant questions.”

Louis swats her right back, and tries not to notice how that little move is immediately captured by multiple cameras. At least the behind the scenes aren’t going to have any sound, so he can say whatever he bloody likes. “I’m not gawking,” he protests, crossing his hands across his chest.

His daemon rolls her eyes at him. “Mmm,” she says. “Right.”

Louis shakes his fringe out his eyes and turns another semi-brilliant smile at the woman in front of him with the phone and the camera. “Anything else?”

“We’re good,” she says kindly. Her daemon’s some sort of bird of paradise, brightly colored and nattering away as most interviewer’s daemons do, but he settles when Tiamat lifts a non-existent leopard brow at her.

“Sick,” Louis says, leaning back in the chair and rolling his shoulder back a bit.

When he turns his head, Harry’s nearly finished with the stretch of photos, the photographer continuing to shout praise and instructions. He meets Louis’ eyes shyly on the last photo, head bowed and too cute for words, and Louis swallows heavily.

That’s probably going to _not_ make the cut, regardless of how wonderful affection looks on Harry.

“Now we’re going to need you to jump in the pool,” says one of the people in charge, interrupting Louis’ train of thought and catching his attention.

He whirls around till he finds Liam, sitting on one of the outdoor chairs with Bethania half in his lap.

His bandmate very slowly closes opens and closes his mouth a few times.

Louis mouths ‘ _hah_ ’ at him because he has the mentality of a child.

“--So if you’ll head over to change, then we can go,” finishes whomever.

Louis gets to his feet automatically, falling into step next to Harry, who still looks a bit flushed.

“So, Lady Gaga,” Harry says quietly, as they head over to where the racks of clothes are sitting.

“What of her?” says Louis, barely biting back the urge to wrap an arm around Harry. They haven’t been told off all day, although that’s more to do with the fact that they’ve been separated for the shoots than anything else.

“Nothing.” Harry is definitely amused, albeit still a bit pink. “Just... _Bad Romance_ is a good tune, is all.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “What’re you saying, Styles?” he starts to ask, before Zayn is grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the shirts.

“Zayn--” Louis tries to say, head turned around back towards Harry, who only looks mildly amused and whose attention is already being taken up by Niall.

“You’re getting looks, Tommo,” says Zayn, fashioning a smile for Caroline who tuts at the wrinkles in Zayn’s polo shirt.

Louis snorts at him, trying not to be bothered, and goes to pull his t-shirt off. He puts the grey-ish one on before Zayn can say anything else, taking a deep breath once his face is covered by the fabric, so that when his arms go through the sleeves he’s got his trademark smile on. “I always get looks, Zayno,” he says.

Zayn shoots him an entirely too knowing look. “Mmm,” he says.

Louis rolls his eyes and nudges him a few times in the shoulder. “The hat’s a bit ridiculous, mate,” he says. “Also dunno if you should be jumping into pools with it.”

Zayn shakes his head at him, but doesn’t take the hat off. In fact, he gets to the point where they’re all standing on the edge before someone shouts at him to take it off. Louis cackles at his pout, and Zayn blows him a kiss before throwing it off towards Preston and Paul.

“Action,” says the photographer, and Louis gives himself a shake before leaping.

Their daemons come in at the same time as them, save Tiamat, who ends up standing on the edge of the pool making a face. “I hate you,” she tells Louis, who swims back towards the edge of the pool and comes halfway out to stare at her.

“Babe,” he says, up on his tiptoes.

“Loser,” says Liana, floating by on her back, paws clasped across her chest.

“The loserest,” agrees Harry, floating by in a similar fashion. “You’re a disgrace to this band.”

“What?” says Tiamat, looking less concerned about the water and more like she’s about to do something incredibly stupid like pouncing on Harry’s floating form. They’ve technically managed to keep that aspect of their relationship secret, somehow, mostly because Harry is incredibly socially conscious and Louis doesn’t like getting unwanted boners, but. They really shouldn’t, because they’re still being filmed, and Louis would rather not like another telling off.

“You.” Harry kicks a bit in the water so that he’s better facing Louis’ daemon, whose tail has started thrashing back and forth. “Are a loser, Tiamat Tomlinson.”

“Tiamat Tomlinson?” manages Louis, not sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

“Well, I mean,” says Harry. “Tiamat doesn’t have enough syllables, I think. Doesn’t sound all that threatening.”

“You never sound threatening,” points out Liana. She’s about as far from Harry and Louis thinks she should be able to go. “Nor do you look it.”

Harry doesn’t spare her a glance, far more concerned with smirking at Louis. “You’re a loser by proxy,” he says.

Tiamat’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t think,” Liam tries to say, before Tiamat is making a truly frightening noise and launching herself at Harry. “Taboo!” is all Liam is able to screech, before the rest of the lads catch on and launch themselves into the fray.

Louis doesn’t give himself a chance to look at the cameras or the people stood outside the pool, grabbing hold of what he thinks is Niall’s ankle and shoving his hand against what he thinks is Bethania’s back.

“Louis!” shrieks Liam, voice doing something that Louis really wouldn’t like to dissect.

“Water fight!” agrees Louis, before ducking under the water.

When they all come up for air, Tiamat is leisurely swimming around the pool as if it’s not her fault they’re all choking on chlorine, Harry seems speechless, and Niall and Eirian appear to be having an in depth discussion about whether or not hooves are detrimental towards swimming.

Zayn looks entirely unaffected by the group splash-off, which simply must not do, so Louis splashes him in the face.

He overcompensates for distance a little, which results in Zayn swallowing an entire mouthful of water and then some, leaving him sputtering, eyes closed, while Louis giggles and glances around at exit strategies.

“You’re on your own, mate,” says Niall when he catches Louis glancing at him.

“So you’re on Zayn’s side, then,” says Louis, and before Niall can respond, he splashes Eirian.

The pool goes briefly silent, save for the clicking of cameras and rustle of wind.

“No,” says Niall finally, breaking the silence. “But now I am.”

So that’s how the shoot devolves into a water fight, which ends with the addition of pool floats. Louis ends up laughing as Harry goes through a tube, getting shoved into the pool by a cackling Liam, and accidentally blinding Harry by jumping on him.

“You alright?” he says, once he’s landed and is safely floating next to Harry, who looks mildly pained.

“No,” says Harry, eyes still closed, and then he reaches out and dunks Louis’ entire head under the water.

When he fights his way back up, it’s to find Harry smirking from where he’s still lounging on the lilo and Liana resting next to him between Tiamat’s ears.

“I thought you didn’t like the pool?” Louis says hoarsely, addressing his daemon and not the cameras around them.

“Eh.” Tiamat’s tail goes swishing through the water. “It’s fine.”

“Louis,” says Paul¸ sounding pained, and when Louis looks at him, he gestures towards Liana and Tiamat.

He’s not quite able to keep the hurt off his face before Harry sees, mouth settling into a line, but their daemons slide off each other and under the water.

Eirian finishes her conversation with Niall loudly, before pushing through the water so that she can stare Louis in the eyes. “Don’t be sad,” she says, even as someone makes a sputtering noise and Paul looks fondly resigned.

“Whoops,” says Niall, coming to float along next to Harry. “Sorry about that.”

“We can cut that. It’s fine.”

“It’s not really fine,” says Harry, but when Louis splashes him again, he smiles. “Wanker.”

Louis drops back in the water, fake horrified. “Why, I never, Harry Styles,” he says.

“Dick,” Harry says fondly, but he splashes Louis back.

They don’t get much flack for the ruined shots, but Louis is a bit distracted teasing Zayn for his proposal question so he doesn’t really notice anything beyond the fact that one moment Harry is next to him and the next he’s fallen back behind him with Paul.

Which is totally fine.

\--

Louis wakes up in the morning to find the bed empty, Harry gone off to whistle in the kitchen. He’s definitely humming _What Makes You Beautiful_ , but as soon as Louis starts listening actively, he transitions into _Look After You_ by the Fray, and Louis needs to be in their kitchen yesterday. He goes to sit up, yawns, and glances down at his phone, which is still nestled in his hand.

“Odd,” he says, glancing at Tiamat, who hasn’t moved from where she’s sprawled in the warm spot Harry left.

“You fell asleep with it,” says his daemon, not opening her eyes. “Didn’t feel like moving it.”

Louis thinks back, yawns again, before thumbing to Harry’s twitter, which he glances at, tilts his head at, and then frowns at.

“What the fuck does this even mean?” he asks Tiamat, who cracks open an eye, stretches, and flops herself across his legs to see.

“I think it’s a quote,” she decides finally, after the silence has gotten stifling.

“Yeah.” In the kitchen, Harry’s voice starts crooning out the chorus to _Look After You_ in earnest; Louis hides a smile in his hand. “But what the bloody fuck does it _mean?_ ”

“Well.” Tiamat pauses. “I think it means he who is brave is free.”

Louis doesn’t even let her finish before shoving her off the bed. “Yeah, fuck off,” he tells her, as she starts cackling from where she’s fallen. “I can read, Ti.”

His daemon settles on her side, looking the most catlike she’s looked in ages. “It is pretty cryptic,” she concedes.

Louis purses his lips, thinking back to how quiet Harry had been the ride home. “We’re not very free, are we?” he says.

Tiamat gets to her feet and comes to look him in the eye. “Lou,” she says.

“Let’s go visit Stan,” Louis says, changing the subject before she can say anything else. “We haven’t seen Stan in ages.”

“We saw Stan a week ago,” points out Tiamat.

Louis ignores her, already on his feet and fumbling for pants. “Do we need socks?” He pulls probably Harry’s trackies up his legs and pauses. “We don’t need socks.”

“We kind of need socks,” says Tiamat.

“My feet do not smell _that_ bad,” says Louis, not looking at her. He shoves his phone into one of the pockets, pulls on probably Harry’s t-shirt, and heaves a sigh.

“No, they do,” says Tiamat, following him out the room and towards Harry’s voice. He’s singing the chorus of _I Want_ now, and Louis can’t help but join in when he gets close enough. It’s his part, anyway, and fuck it if Louis isn’t pleased to be somewhat featured, even if it is only for a few lines of one song.

Harry brightens when he sees Louis, perking up where he’s been making breakfast, and continuing the chorus.

Louis humors him till the second verse, at which point he sneaks in for a kiss, or two, which turns into three, which turns into Louis backed up against the island trying to remember that Harry Styles is both infuriating in the bedroom _and_ on Twitter, and that he has to get out of the flat to clear his head.

“I think it’s Seneca,” says Tiamat, suddenly, from their feet. “Like, the Roman philosopher.”

Louis and Harry freeze.

“What?” Harry licks his lips, which is very distracting.

“Your [tweet](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/98838826587389952),” Tiamat continues. “It’s Seneca.”

Harry’s brow furrows. “Oh, um,” he says. He knows it’s Seneca, or whoever, because he bloody wrote it, obviously, but he’s withdrawing as Louis watches, eyes going less dim and mouth slanting down. “Yeah.”

“Do you not feel free, Haz?” Louis asks, because he can’t help himself, really. He’s always been a bit of a tit.

Harry’s eyes got a bit sharp. “Why, do you?” he returns, turning the question right back on Louis, who flounders.

“Well, I love you,” he says slowly, stomach churning. “So I don’t really think much about anything else.”

“Anything else,” says Harry. “Like your girlfriend?”

There’s a beat. Louis sucks in a breath. Harry looks horrified.

“H,” says Louis finally. “Hazza.”

“Sorry.” Harry still looks horrified, face gone a bit white. Their daemons had ended up curled together at their feet, but now they’re not, hovering around the edges of the room looking equally confused.

“Is this our first fight?” says Louis, half joking, half trying to diffuse the tension. It works somewhat, because Harry tries to grin.

“Bit of a crap fight, innit?” he says, shifting on the balls of his feet. “You’re not even dating anyone.”

Louis reaches out and grips him by the hips, tugging him close. “Wrong,” he says quietly. “I’m dating you.”

Harry smiles at that, bright and perfectly lovely. “Oh, are you,” he says. He’s trying, but it still sounds off.

Louis hugs him, mind racing. “We signed a contract,” he says into Harry’s hair, and powers on as Harry stiffens. “I’d be free with you if I could, babe.”

Harry’s fingers dig into the back of Louis’ arms. “Louis,” he says, barely even a breath.

“Come with me to Spain,” says Louis, pulling back suddenly. He remembers seeing the flyers when he’d been in Ibiza with Stan a week ago, and he hadn’t been seriously considering going back for more partying, but. Now seems a good enough time as any, he supposes.

“Spain,” Harry repeats.

“Or not Spain, I suppose,” Louis says, waving a hand. “Like--Mallorca? There’s a music thing going on.”

“A music thing,” repeats Tiamat, under her breath.

“Yeah, that,” says Louis. “Come with?”

Harry gives him an unreadable look. “I, um,” he says. “I was actually going to see Man U tomorrow?”

Louis blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Um.”

“I’ve got two tickets, though,” Harry finishes. “If you want.”

“Um.” Louis doesn’t know why his insides feel like ice. “I kind of promised Stan,” he says, stupidly, trailing off. He’s promised Stan nothing.

“Oh,” says Harry.

“Only for two days,” Louis says quickly. “Then I’ll be back and bothering you on the regular, Styles.” He tickles Harry’s sides, looking for a smile, and the younger lad doesn’t disappoint.

“You never bother me, Lou,” Harry says, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I should hope not,” says Louis. “But are you sure?”

Harry leans down and pecks him once on the lips, chaste and shyer than Louis’ used to from him. “Go,” he says. “Have fun.” He kisses him again. “Miss me.”

“Always miss you,” Louis says. “Now, breakfast?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“It’s burnt,” says Liana helpfully, after a while. “It happened sometime around the kissing thing.”

“The kissing thing,” repeats Tiamat.

“The kissing thing,” says Liana. “You’re lucky I turned it off.”

Louis looks around Harry to see that the hob is off.

“Good thinking,” he tells Liana, who preens, and then turns to Harry. “You’re fired.”

There’s another pause, where Louis wonders if they’re not okay again, before Harry makes a mock offended face and goes to swat Louis on the bum.

“See if I ever cook for you again, Tomlinson,” he says, untangling their legs and going to see if he can salvage the eggs.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You say that like I can’t cook,” he points out. “I’ve got baby sisters. I’m not an idiot.”

Harry pauses with the spatula in his hands.

Which is how Louis ends up not going to see Stan until much later, because it turns out Harry instructing him in the ways of cooking eggs was far sexier than it had any right to be.

The afterglow has just started to wear off, Harry’s cryptic tweet and Harry’s surprisingly sharp tone floating its way to the surface of Louis’ brain, when Stan takes one look at him, raises both his eyebrows, but doesn’t slam the door in his face. “Let’s go to Magaluf this weekend,”  he says. “My treat, come on.”

Louis raises one brow. “Your treat?” he says. “Will you be paying for the hotel and the spur of the moment flight, then?”

“Of course.” Stan doesn’t miss a beat. “You might not know this, but my best mate in the whole wide world is this bloke called Louis Tomlinson, who’s maybe a wee bit famous, so he’s probably going to lend me the cash.”

“Oh, is he?” says Louis.

“Definitely,” says Stan. “Love that bloke moderately famous Louis Tomlinson. I hear he gives great head.”

In the moments it takes for Louis’ brain to very clearly remember the first time Stan had stayed over in his and Harry’s flat and walked in on them mid blow job, Tiamat flops down across the floor, Acacia starts laughing, and Stan just smirks.

Louis puts him in a headlock, but books the flight the next day.

\--

“So  I hear [Dave Pearce](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/99957919885430784) is playing tonight,” says Stan, coming back to stand in front of Louis and glancing up from his phone. “Oh my god what happened to your [t-shirt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RQb819-byA)?”

Louis stares back at him trying to figure out if that was really a question, because Stan had said that last bit with essentially no inflection.

“It’s a question,” says Tiamat, and Louis goes to claw her in the face. And there goes that mind bleed thing; perhaps he’s far drunker than he thought.

“Seriously.” Stan looks mildly alarmed. “Lou. Your top, mate. Where’s it gone?”

Louis glances down at his chest and frowns. Huh. It appears to be bare. He doesn’t really remember losing the t-shirt, but apparently he did.

“Dunno,” he says, addressing his nipples, cocking his head to the side before reaching up one hand to flick at the left one. “It’s gone.”

When he manages to get his head back up Stan is staring at him with an expression of vague horror on his face, but his jaw snaps shut and he very quickly shakes his head. “Right,” he says. “Right, okay, this is good.”

Louis goes to ask what he means, because he’s actually quite cold now that he thinks about it, which he hadn’t been before Stan returned with more alcohol. Speaking of--Louis nabs the beer Stan had gone to get and takes a long swig.

“This is exactly why we came out to Spain in the first place.” Stan takes the beer back from Louis mid swig and ignores Louis’ sputters. “To get you pissed off your mind so you can forget about that little arsehole Sty--”

“Harry,” says Louis, interrupting him, and craning his head around the club. “Is H here?”

Stan stares at him for another moment before dropping the beer bottle behind his back. “So no more alcohol, then,” he says quickly. Acacia jumps up to perch on his head and nods in the background.

Louis glares at Stan, and then at his daemon, and then turns to dare Tiamat to go see if she can swallow her.

“No one’s swallowing anyone,” Stan says quickly, grabbing Louis by the shoulders and guiding him around so that they’re staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

Stan has very nice eyes, Louis decides. They’re not as nice as Harry’s eyes, but Harry’s eyes are green, and oh so very lovely, and they go this wonderful glassy shade whenever he comes.

“TMI, Tommo, TMI,” Stan says immediately, breaking into Louis’ thoughts and swinging him back around. “Oh my God TMI.”

Louis blinks at him.

“You have absolutely no brain to mouth filter,” says Acacia kindly, fluttering down to land on Tiamat’s left shoulder. She starts grooming her instantly, pecking through the fur there and smoothing it into place.

Louis very briefly wonders if Ti’s got lice.

“That’s your head, Lou,” says his daemon, once Louis’ gone to investigate his own fringe.

Louis would respond, but his hair is just depressing, falling into his eyes with no order whatsoever, so Louis swishes it to one side and give his head a flick. That seems to get him attention in the club, the fact that he’s shirtless, not unattractive, and obviously pissed off his arse probably helping matters quite a lot. Now that he thinks about it, though, Louis would very much like to not be stood off to the side of a club in the middle of Magaluf with his childhood bestmate staring into his eyes like some sort of bloody romance film; if anything, the only lad Louis has any intention of reenacting romance films with is back home in the UK probably still tweeting about bloody Greek philosophers.

“Roman, actually,” points out Tiamat, but her words sound slurred.

Louis ignores her and starts to try to squirm his way free of Stan’s grip on his shoulders.“Wanna dance,” he tells his friend, who shakes his head at him pleasantly but drags him off towards the dance floor regardless.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Stan, releasing Louis once they’ve found their way back among the sea of undulating bodies. And then something about Harry, but Harry isn’t in Mallorca with them, and Louis very quickly forgets about him when the music cranks up a few beats. He’s got Tiamat at his side, Stan to his left, and Acacia starting up a running commentary on the various people dancing around them in one of their ears. Who even _needs_ Harry Styles?

\--

Louis desperately needs Harry Styles. It’s nearing noon and he’s skipped straight out of hungover back into being pissed, and Louis is just getting his second wind. He’s ended up back in the club with Stan, who’s equally pissed this time around,  and while Louis is having a blast, no matter of teasing, phone pranks, or random phone games can make up for the fact that the boy standing next to him in this club isn’t Harry Styles. It’s Stanley Lucas, and while Stan hadn’t gone off and tweeted Greek philosophic quotes at him, he’s also not good for orgasms or kisses or simply just hugging. So Louis pulls out his phone, twists his way free of the grip Stan’s got on his wrist. (So he’d tried to run off earlier, sue him. Stan had gone all red in the face and it was _hilarious_ and Louis is standing by that no matter the lectures he’ll no doubt get from Liam Daddy Direction Payne once he’s got back home.)

“Toilet,” he tells Stan, reaching down to get Tiamat’s attention with a flick to her ear. “Back in a tick.”

“Don’t fall in,” Stan says jokingly, and Louis flips him off.

“Don’t meet the love of your life!” Acacia calls, and Louis flips _her_ off.

“The love of our life is in England preparing to go see a footie game,” Tiamat says sadly, as the two of them make their way into the toilet and select a stall. “We’re not going to fit.”

They do both fit, but only barely, and Louis ends up craning over his phone while trying not to fall into the toilet basin. _‘_[styles !!](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/100160790174248960)’ --Louis isn’t sure why he’s gone and put a space before the exclamation marks but he’s drunk and he’s not questioning it-- ‘[get yourself to maga!](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/100160790174248960)’ That sounds suitably invite-y, Louis thinks. Not too pissed, not too needy, and not too please come snog me in the middle of clubs and then cuddle me in the morning and make me delicious eggs benedict when I’m hungover. Perfectly reasonable.

“Reasonable,” agrees Tiamat, just as Harry replies.

Louis doesn’t put his hand in the toilet in response; he puts his hand in the toilet because there’s no space in the stall.

‘ [ I can’t today man!! Big game! I mat swing to waga though? No? Haha ](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/100161774732578816) ’

Louis’ incredibly drunken brain is having trouble figuring out what Harry means beyond the fact that he’s not coming to join Louis for snogging and cuddling and delicious eggs benedict breakfast...making. Also he’s gone and called him ‘man’, so maybe Louis should just call him instead.

Of course before he can do that, Stan is slamming into the toilet with a cry of, “Louis William Tomlinson put your phone down this instant.”

Louis puts his phone down this instant. Into the toilet. It splashes on the way in.

Stan’s footsteps stop abruptly. “Louis,” he says calmly. “Did you just drop your mobile in the loo?”

“No,” says Louis immediately, glaring at Tiamat and whispering out the side of his mouth, “pick up the bloody phone, Ti.”

“Absolutely not,” says his daemon. “I absolutely refuse.”

“Ti,” says Louis.

“Lewis,” says Tiamat. “We are in a bloody night club.”

“You dropped your mobile in the loo,” says Stan from outside the stall. “Louis.”

Louis reaches in and grabs his phone, whirls around, unlatches the door, and throws the thing into Stan’s waiting arms.

His mate catches it reflexively, years of footie and living with Louis having taught him to think fast and ask questions later, and Louis has only about three seconds of warning before Stan is letting out an outraged cry and chasing him out the toilet and back onto the dance floor. They wipe the phone off on the back of some poor lad’s trousers with minimal giggling and eyebrow raising and all is forgiven.

\--

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you fell into a toilet today,” Louis says, addressing his phone, as Stan hauls him the remaining steps towards the hotel lift.

“Louis,” says Stan, shooting Acacia a panicked look until his daemon pecks Tiamat on the nose to prevent her from getting stuck in a never ending circle of tail chasing. “For the last time, you _cannot_ be this pissed.”

Louis isn’t actually this pissed. He just doesn’t really want to walk all the way back to the hotel, but he’s not about to tell Stan that. Stan really is a good friend.

“Did you know I met Harry in a toilet?” he stays instead. Okay, so maybe he is a tad bit pissed. Whatever. Maga is rocking.

“Oh my God,” says Stan. “Yes, Louis, I know you met Harry in a toilet.” He shoves Louis into the lift and presses the button for their floor. “You haven’t shut up about it in months.”

“‘Cause I met Harry in a toilet,” Louis continues, unaffected by the fact that he’s smooshed face first into one of the walls. “He weed on me.” That last bit’s not exactly true, but even when drunk Louis isn’t about to tell Stan how the first thing Harry’d done upon seeing Louis was  _settle_.

There’s another short pause. “Okay, that was news to me,” Stan says quietly. He goes a bit silent, so Louis turns to stare at him, and finds him staring at the lift ceiling in dismay.

Louis very quickly rights himself enough so that he can stare up at the ceiling as well, in case Stan’s superior eyesight has spotted something dangerous and worthy of dismay.

There’s nothing out of ordinary on said lift ceiling, so he says, “It was love at first wee, you could go so far to say,” and then turns to look at Stan with a grin.

Stan stares back at him for another long moment, before turning back towards the ceiling. “Oh my God,” he says again.

Louis follows his gaze because he’s almost starting to get worried, now.

After a short pause, Tiamat shifts awkwardly on her haunches. “What are you two looking at,” she asks, at the same time Acacia dive bombs her in the sudden silence.

“Love at first wee!” crows Stan’s daemon, sounding absolutely chuffed.

Louis’ daemon visibly leaps several feet into the air, rocking the lift in quite a worrying manner, and Stan starts wheezing laughter.

“Fucking, _piss off_ , you wanker,” hisses Tiamat, swatting at Acacia with one massive paw, even as Louis starts giggling. His heart is racing and his blood is roaring but he’s having the time of his life, honest. He still wishes Harry were here, but Louis’ starting to realize he’s always going to wish Harry were with him when he’s not.

“Talk to him, Tommo,” says Stan suddenly, once the lift’s creaked to a stop and they’re waiting for the other to take the first step out. “Tell him he’s being an arse.”

“He is being an arse,” Louis agrees, even as Stan continues to speak, rambling on about how he’s not entirely sure _why_ Harry’s an arse, but he must be. “You’re a good friend, Stanley.”

“...Right.” Stan pats him awkwardly on the back one, twice, and then gently guides him out of the lift. “But seriously, where the fuck has your t-shirt gone _again_.”

“Lost it,” Louis says, letting Stan herd him down the hallway, Tiamat following behind him still cursing out Acacia.

“Okay.” Stan sounds quite amused at this point. “I don’t think we’ll be doing this again, then.”

Louis cranes his head around to stare at him and lifts a brow. Or so he thinks. He might just make a terrible face.

“Your other half has been texting me since I sent him that first photo,” says Stan, gesturing to his trouser pocket. “When you first lost your top. For the second day in a row.”

Louis thinks back to that moment. That had been only a few moments after the phone incident, he thinks.

“You love him,” Stan continues. “And he loves you, God knows why. So when we get back to London I want to see make-up sex, Tomlinson.”

Louis blinks back at Stan a few times. “I hope you don’t mean literally witnessing the make-up sex, Stanley,” he says. “Because Harry and I would not be cool with that.”

Stan fish mouths at him for a few moment, before sliding the keycard into their hotel door. “We’re pretending you never said that,” he says, as he dumps Louis on one of the beds and heads for the toilet.

Louis watches him go with an eye roll, shifting around on the bed until he can grab hold of his mobile and force it free from his pocket. He opens the Twitter app like clockwork, scrolls through his tweets, and has to bite down the urge to call Harry right this instance to ask him why he’s going around [inviting Adison Lee drivers](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/100231443187376128) to football matches with him.

“Miss him,” says Tiamat where her face is shoved into the pillow next to Louis.

“Yeah,” says Louis, thinking back to that moment when he first happened upon Harry Styles, drying his hands in the X-Factor toilet trying not to think about how the first introduction the media’d ever gotten of him was Tiamat unable to hold a shape for his entire audition.

His fingers are sliding across the keys before he can stop himself, firing off a tired, ‘[ _Hi_](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/99994547630768128) _’_ into the Twittersphere. No one’s going to know it’s for Harry, because no one knows that that’s always for Harry, but it makes something ease inside his chest anyway.

His phone buzzes with a new text message not even a moment later, his screen lighting up with a new message from Harry.

‘ _Oops,’_ it says, and then, ‘ _Love you.’_

Louis maybe smiles a bit giddily down at the phone, but no one’s around to see him, so no one has to know about it.

\--

Louis isn’t sure whose fault it is, but they don’t actually talk about much of anything until V-Fest, at which point Louis is drunk, amused, and laughing at everything, and Harry is not. Harry is standing over by Ed Sheeran, who looks far too amused and too knowing for Louis’ comfort, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Between _What Makes You Beautiful_ being released and the radio tour, there just hasn’t been any time for talking. [Harry was getting his nails painted](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eC1pZmZV8Rc) or [Harry was getting proposed to](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/99961403015/x) or [Louis was speed reading the news](https://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150762039770206) or [wearing a Simon Cowell mask](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1F2N9czgxo) or [the two of them were ](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/101036939435)[giggling into microphones](http://bulletproofhalo.tumblr.com/post/78615513449/body-language-101-which-one-of-these-is-not-like-the) or [ribbing Zayn for accidentally saying ‘Malabami’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PUQbniiJbQ) on radio. And, sure, a few times they’d been pulled aside and told off for it but in the end Louis had had Harry and Harry had had Louis and Louis loves Harry lots, okay. _Lots_.

“I love you lots,” he tells Harry, who frowns down at him even more.

“You’re drunk.”

Louis grins at him. “Yeah,” he says. “How’d you know?”

Ed Sheeran makes a noise that sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Louis should probably stop referring to him as ‘Ed Sheeran’ in his head, but he can’t quite help himself.

“We’re not really all that pissed, honest,” pipes up Tiamat from under Louis. Right. Because Louis’ ended up in the VIP lounge and using her as a sofa, because she was comfy and warm and breathed in time with him.

“Right.” Harry looks almost amused now, lips quirking up at the corners, and he did just make [Ed](https://twitter.com/edsheeran/status/105372011022397440) [Sheeran](https://twitter.com/edsheeran/status/105372771084812289) drive him across London to see Louis. So.

“I love you,” he tells Harry seriously. “Why’re you angry with me?”

There’s a pause.

“I’m gonna go check out the set lists, guys,” says Ed, shooting them an amused look. His daemon flashes a few times around his head before the two of them are off, whispering to one another. “I’m not going to write a song about them, Addy, please,” Ed says, before his voice fades out.

Louis turns his attention back towards Harry, who looks torn between continuing to frown down at Louis and climbing into his lap. Louis wishes he’d do the latter, because if he got Harry in his lap they could kiss, and Louis loves kissing, especially with Harry, and especially with Harry in his lap.

Harry also is very suddenly pink.

“Brain to mouth filter,” says Tiamat, after a moment.

“Right.” Louis blinks hazily and tries to right himself a bit.

“I’m not annoyed with you,” Harry says finally. He glances around the rest of the VIP lounge, and Louis is suddenly furious. Harry shouldn’t be watching their backs like a hawk. Harry should be halfway in Louis’ lap regardless because fuck everyone who’s ever told them to stop touching and fuck everyone who’s ever told them to think of the band. Fuck them all, honestly, and what was Louis doing before this?

He looks back at Harry, who looks like he’s expecting something from him.“Oh,” he tries.

“I’m not annoyed, Lou, honest.” Harry looks honestly worried, and Louis remembers what they’re talking about suddenly. Which is rather sobering.

He makes grabby hands at Harry until he comes over to him, and drags him into his lap. “But you’ve been weird with me since Hannah, Haz,” he says, once Harry’s settled. “Why’re you being weird with me if you’re not annoyed?”

Harry stops blushing and sighs, settling his hands on Louis’ shoulders. “You’re not going to remember much of this, are you?” he says, which is both unfair and terribly presumptuous.

“I’m sobering up rather quickly, H, I have to say,” Louis gets out hoarsely. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Harry says quickly. “I just.” He sighs. “I’m seventeen.”

Louis blinks at him. “Right,” he says slowly. “That’s. That’s a thing.”

“And you’re going to be twenty,” Harry continues, not looking Louis in the eyes. Liana had been wrapped around his neck for the beginning of the conversation but she’s nowhere in sight now, and Louis thinks maybe she’s between Tiamat’s paws where his daemon is still somewhat sat underneath the two of them; what an odd picture they make.

“Ugh,” Louis says. “Twenty.”

Harry’s lips quirk up. “So old,” he says, softly and trying for teasing.

Louis clutches tight to his hips. “H,” he says.

“Are you sure you want me?” says Harry, finally, and Louis’ heart feels like it stops.

“What?” he says eventually, because he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do with this question, because as much as the sudden seriousness of their conversation is sobering, he’s still had two beers and he’s still half off his arse and Harry is _in his lap_.

“How do you know you want me?” Harry says again. “‘Cause, like. I’m seventeen. And you’re like. _Grown_ , Lou. And we would have to _hide_.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth. “ _Harry_ ,” he says finally, fingers pressing in hard against Harry’s hipbones. “Harry, _baby_.”

Harry makes a broken sounding noise and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not a baby,” he says.

“You’re my baby,” Louis says instantly, pressing in close so that their foreheads rest together. “Harry.”

Harry blinks his eyes open, looking a bit misty. “You’re drunk,” he says again.

“Harry.”

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation while you’re drunk.”

Louis reaches around beneath them till he finds Liana and pulls her up so that he can hold her between them. It’s the harshest he’s been with Harry’s daemon since the first time she brushed up against his fingers in their X-Factor bedrooms. Harry’s eyes are wide, pupils blown huge, and Liana is _shaking_ even as she presses into Louis’ fingers.

“ _I love you_ , Harry Styles,” Louis says. “I’m going to write you thirty thousand sappy love songs and I’m going to get Liam to help me put them on the album and you’re going to have to go about your business knowing they’re for you.”

Louis could go on, and he’s about to, but something in Harry’s eyes makes him stop. He’s smiling mostly, dimples halfway out, but he’s also looking more panicked in his eyes than Louis wants. He looks like he did after Hannah, begging for Louis to ask _something_ but being too cowardly to say what.

Louis swallows his sentence.  “So,” he says instead, like he hasn’t started pouring out his feelings into the space between them. “How long did it take you to convince Ed to drive you here?”

There’s a pause where Harry looks mildly startled, eyes still wide, before he laughs, loud and sudden and attracting glances. It’s dark enough that Louis doesn’t think anyone’s gone and noticed them, and he doesn’t really care, at this point. Let someone see them, Harry in his lap, Harry’s daemon in his hands, and go home and whisper about those two blokes in One Direction.

“Um,” says Harry, when he’s done laughing. “A while.”

Louis pulls back a bit and grins at him. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “Even if you did miss most of it.”

Harry actually looks miffed at that, brow furrowing. “Yeah, I’d have liked to have seen more, actually,” he says. “I’ve never been to a proper music festival. Like. Proper.”

Louis goes to kiss him, and then stops. And idea is forming in his head already, dates and Leeds Festival and the likelihood of them being free for an entire weekend spinning around into what might turn into the most romantic thing Louis’ done, since he and Harry had date night two days ago for no reason other than boredom and ‘lack of romance,’ to quote Liana.  “When you say proper do you mean drunken?” Louis asks, to cover for his thoughts, even as he makes a note to pester Paul about it; the man’s getting married tomorrow; Louis has leverage. “Because Harry Styles,” he finishes, not even finishing that thought.

“You’re pissed off your arse, shut up,” says Liana, from Louis’ arms. “There are photos on Twitter.”

Louis pauses. “There are photos on Twitter?” he says.

Liana nods.

“Ti, there are photos of us drunk on Twitter.”

“Pointing at things,” Harry adds, sounding amused. “You like to point at things when you’re drunk.”

“I’ll point you,” Louis retorts, which he is aware makes no sense.

“You’ll point in him, more like,” says Tiamat, sounding far more amused than she has any right to. “Like.” She shifts around so that she’s not being used as a sofa, and curls and uncurls a paw a few times.

Liana stares at her with horror for a few moments, before looking between the Harry and Louis. “Are either of you going to smack her, or?” she says.

Louis shrugs his shoulder at Harry, who actually looks a bit flushed, before shoving Tiamat with his foot. “Shut up,” he says.

“You get it?” continues his daemon, unperturbed. “Like. Fingering.”

One of the other patrons near to them chokes on her beer, and Louis is infinitely grateful that it’s late enough in the night that no one’s going to remember shit. He nudges Harry to his feet, follows suit, and grabs him by the hand. “Come on,” he says, tugging Harry towards the tent door. “Let’s go find you some music.”

Harry is smiling softly at him, following, holding tight to Louis’ hand like it’s a landline.

Louis maybe swings their arms a bit between them and maybe fake trips a few times until Harry is giggling and Tiamat is shaking her head but staying remarkably still as Liana rides around on the back of her neck.

“I’ve missed all the good stuff, though,” Harry says, as they make their way out into the night.

Louis scoffs. “Well we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we,” he says mysteriously, with a waggle of his eyebrows, before heading off towards the sound of music.

\--

They’re in a tent in the middle of Leeds Festival 2011 and neither of them are drunk. Well. Neither of them are _that_ drunk. It’s only their second day there, and while they’d been pretty off their arses the 27th, Louis would like the record to show that he’s done his best to not be drunk enough that Harry won’t feel comfortable talking to him. Because they’re going to talk about it. Currently, they’re also going to make out about it, but. After the making out--which is lovely and wonderful and Harry can just...keep doing that thing with his tongue--they’re going to talk about it. Because Louis is moderately sober.

Louis’ made sure of this, turning down Harry’s puppy-dog eyes in favor of dragging him to see Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, among other things, and not having nearly as many drinks as he would usually. Harry’s a bit drunker than Louis would like, but Louis isn’t really focusing on anything other than the feel of Harry’s lips against his and the thrum of their heartbeats. They’re the only ones in the tent, Stan having wandered off with the rest of the lads and their newfound Northern friends when Harry started making grabby hands and Liana decided she’d rather be stuffed down Louis’ shirt.

Louis’ pretty sure he’s going to owe Stan into the next life, now that he thinks about it.

“Mmm,” says Harry, pulling away from Louis’ mouth and grinning down at him. He’d climbed into Louis’ lap the moment they’d gotten into the tent, snogging him within an inch of his life and petting his fingers through Louis’ hair and Tiamat’s fur. “Hi.”

Louis pecks him on the nose because he can’t help himself. “Hi,” he replies.

“I’m glad we came,” says Harry, and then he giggles, eyes darting down to where their hips are pressed flushed together. He’s the one in the green jacket at the moment, having nabbed it back from Louis sometime during the day, but Louis thinks it’s about time he takes it off.

Before he can do that there’s a sudden noise as Liana sneezes. “We haven’t really come,” she says, from where she’s still down Louis’ shirt.

Louis can’t help but grin at that, cuddling his chin down so that he can kiss Liana behind her ear.

In his lap, Harry shudders, eyes falling shut, lashes fluttering and casting shadows against his cheekbones. He may go on about how long Louis’ eyelashes are, but Louis doesn’t think his are anything compared to Harry’s; this is proof.

“No,” he says, into Harry’s daemon’s ear, watching Harry’s eyes open so that the younger boy can stare lazily at him. “We haven’t come.”

Liana sucks in a deep breath, looks at Harry, before shoving her head back into Louis’ chin. She’s smaller than Louis likes to think about, soft as you like, and her heart is racing, but she presses back into the curve of Louis’ throat and up against his heartbeat. They haven’t really done this, not since Harry discovered just how easy it is to take Louis apart simply by touching Tiamat, and Louis wonders if Harry’s insecurities are the reason for this. Because he’s held his tongue since V-Fest, and maybe he made sure to hold Harry’s hand especially hard for Paul’s wedding, and maybe he’d glared at the first person to frown at them when [Harry’d grabbed his wrist on camera](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucSvZ56ZBRY), but he hasn’t said _anything_ , is the thing.

Harry deserves something.

“Hazza,” he says, and Liana lets the air out of her lungs.

“Do we have to?” she says quietly. It’s quiet enough that Louis isn’t sure Harry can actually hear her. He waits for Harry to say something, waits for Liana to repeat herself at a louder volume, but neither of them do.

Harry just keeps sitting across Louis’ thighs, Liana starts grooming the stubble Louis’ maybe growing, and no one speaks.

Finally, Louis finds his voice. “You got quite upset with me last weekend,” he tells Liana, equally quietly, although Tiamat’s ears perk up. She’s not touching the rest of them, resting towards the front of the tent with her great head on her paws, and Louis wonders what that says about him.

Liana heaves a long sigh. “Yeah, well,” she says, still not addressing anyone but Louis. “H is an idiot.”

Louis glances back towards Harry, whose cheeks have gone quite pink, and who hasn’t moved an inch since his soul started up a conversation with Louis like she belonged to him instead of the boy in his lap.

“Hey,” Louis tells Liana. “That’s the love of my life you’re insulting.”

Instead of flushing even harder, like Louis wanted, Harry’s mouth settles into a harsh line and he goes to push up off of Louis’ lap.

Louis counts on Liana not to scratch him up too badly, lunging forward to grapple for whatever part of Harry he can get his hands on and forcing him to sit still. The position they end up in is much less arousing when the dust settles, even though Harry is still in Louis’ lap and their faces are inches apart.

“Harry,” Louis says, after a few moments. “Talk to me.”

Harry makes a frustrated, pained noise, shuts his eyes, and then drops his head down to rest in the crook of Louis’ neck. It puts him eye to eye to Liana, who hums and tries to twist away. Louis reacts on instinct, letting go of Harry’s wrists in favor of grabbing his daemon, pulling her up close to his chest and staring down at Harry’s curls.

“How,” says Harry, clearing his throat. “Louis.”

Louis blinks a few times, keeps petting over Liana, and turns to press a kiss to whatever part of Harry’s head he can get to. “Love,” he says. “You’re going to have to be clearer than that.”

Harry pulls back to stare at him, looking pained. “Louis,” he says.

“That’s my name, yes,” says Louis, smiling back at him. He releases Liana, who doesn’t move, just nudges her head into Louis’ hands until he goes back to stroking over her back.

“How do you know that you want to be with me?” asks Harry finally, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “Because I’m only seventeen.”

Louis blinks. “Babe,” he says.

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me,” Harry retorts head coming up so he can stare at Louis. “You’re nearly _twenty_ , Lou.” His brow pulls together. “And I’m. Not.” He looks young, confused, hurt, but also about two seconds from telling Louis they’re too drunk for the conversation.

“You are a bit young, Haz,” Louis concedes, trying not to think about the sudden pit in his stomach. The sudden urge _he_ has to tell Harry that _he’s_ too drunk for the conversation. “Like, I mean, I know that we’re not exactly your average couple.” Louis laughs, but it comes out watery and broken. He feels like he’s broken. “And you’re only _seventeen_ \--”

“I’m not too young to know you’re _it_ for me, _Lewis_ ,” Harry spits out, looking angry now. He’s the one refusing to let Louis run, fingers biting into Louis’ shoulders and eyes boring into his.

“You _are_ , though,” Louis says, because even though he hasn’t thought about it doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought it, and the dark is making him brave.

Or cowardly, he supposes, because he’s pretty sure he’s running from his soulmate.

“You’re supposed to be out exploring the world, Harry,” Louis says, staring up at the top of their tent, at the blackness around them. “Meeting people. Dating people.” He swallows. “Falling in love.” He darts a look towards Tiamat and finds her shaking across the tent floor. “Not stuck in the closet with me.”

For a moment none of them say anything. Louis waits, eyes stuck on what he thinks is a hole in their tent as the music around them ebbs and flows. Someone near to them trips, cracking a branch and earning a laugh from whoever’s with them. Their daemon is probably a bird, because immediately after that their friends starts cursing them out for shitting on them, and Louis doesn’t think that the Northerners are quite _that_ wild.

And then Harry. Harry _laughs_.

It’s startling enough that Louis’ eyes flit back around to stare at Harry, who’s still sat across his lap, Liana pressed up against his collarbones, giggling like an idiot. Louis doesn’t remember when she left his hands, but they suddenly feel icy.

“God I love you,” says Harry, and Louis’ mouth falls open.

This is _not_ what he expected. He expected tears, or pouting, or like, storming out of the _tent_ , even so that when Stan and co returned home Louis would be sprawled drunkenly on the ground outside staring up at the stars and wondering what sort of idiot God decided to give him the commitment issue gene.

He turns to look at Tiamat.

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “I’m not part of this conversation.”

Louis turns back to Harry, who’s stopped laughing, and while the laughing thing _full stop_ was worrying, at least he’s looking considerably less flighty.  “I’m being serious, Harry,” Louis says, lowering his voice several octaves.

“So am I,” says Harry. He’s smiling.

Louis frowns at him. “H,” he says.

“I would go for the ends of the fucking world for you, Louis Tomlinson,” interrupts Harry. “The ends of the world.”

“Harry--” Louis tries to say.

“Do you need me to get it fucking _tattooed_ on my forehead?”

Louis closes his mouth. He looks back over at Tiamat. His daemon looks equally at a loss, but she’s not shaking anymore. When he looks back at Harry, the younger lad is smiling at him, a bit shyly, but there’s a stubborn edge to his eyes that Louis realizes he loves more than anything else. He’s missed that bit of him; missed making out in front of whatever poor unfortunate member of Modest Management that’s gotten stuck monitoring One Direction; missed looking into Harry’s eyes and not seeing _resignation_. He swallows.

“That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?” he manages, over the rush of blood in his ears. “If the singing thing doesn’t pan out, you’ve got the face for like, television,” he elaborates, even though he really doesn’t need to. Harry is still smiling at him. “A face tattoo might ruin that,” Louis finishes.

There’s another short pause, and then Harry swats at him with one of his giant paws. “So I’ll get it somewhere else, you idiot,” he says. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I’m not trying to distract you,” says Louis. “I’m trying to help you.” He shifts around a little so he can better stare Harry in the eyes. “Tattoos are a big deal, you know,” he says seriously. “They’re very permanent.”

“I know,” Harry says, equally serious. His eyes soften. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

Louis sucks in a deep breath. “But what if you do?” he asks, because he can’t. He doesn’t know what to do with Harry when he looks at him like that, because hadn’t he decided he wanted to have this conversation? Hadn’t he been the one prepared to tell Harry that it was okay if he wanted to go and sow his seeds elsewhere? Hadn’t he had the bloody upper hand? “What if you wake up one morning and decide you wish you _hadn’t_ gotten ‘property of Louis the Tommo Tomlinson’ across your arse?” Louis finishes. The joke is a reflex, but does nothing to diffuse the tension. Suddenly, Louis can’t be still.

“Wait, hang on,” says Harry, even as Louis tries to get to his feet so he can pace. “I am _not_ getting a tramp stamp.”

Louis stares at him, mouth open, trying to form words.

“Did you know they call them arse antlers?” interrupts Liana conversationally, like Louis isn’t pouring his heart and soul out into the tent.

“No, I did not,” says Harry.

“I think that’d be cool, you know,” continues Liana. “Like. Actual antlers on your arse.” She pauses. “Like. It’d be funny.”

“I dunno,” says Harry, appearing to be actually considering it. “I feel like that’d hurt.”

“No one is getting antlers tattooed on their bum!” Louis interrupts shrilly, before either of them can continue. “God!” He collapses back against the sleeping bags and drapes a hand over his eyes. After a moment, Harry follows suit, crawling down so that he can prop his chin up on Louis’ chest and letting out a deep breath. He must set Liana down because she’s not between the two of them, and he doesn’t even have to look to know that she’s pressed up against Tiamat, the near ticklish feeling of their souls intertwining making his chest ache.

He bites into the flesh of his forearm and doesn’t say anything.

“You’ve got to stop acting like it’s you against the world, Lou,” Harry says finally, into the dark. He starts tracing patterns across Louis’ chest, looping cursive that Louis want to memorize and ink into his skin so it never goes away. Even though tattoos are permanent; even though they hurt. Only, he doesn’t have time to think about that for too long, because what Harry’s _saying_ catches up with him, and he grabs onto Harry’s wrist and tugs it to  a halt.

“It _is_ me against the world,” he says, sharply, thinking back to all the texts he’s got on his phone telling him off for looking at Harry too _besottedly_.

“No.” Harry pulls his wrist free of Louis’ grip and tugs Louis’ arm away from his face so he can lean in close. “It’s not.” His eyes flick down to Louis’ lips like he’s going to kiss him. “It’s _us_ against the world, Louis,” he says. “You and me.”

“But what if you change your mind?” Louis tries to ask, but Harry follows through on that promise and kisses him silent.

Louis doesn’t try to keep speaking, _can’t_ keep speaking, because he’s got Harry’s leg over his thigh and Harry’s mouth licking into his, and _Harry_ can’t say anything for those same reasons, but Louis hears him loud and clear anyway.

 _I’m not going to change my mind_ , Harry’s eyes say, when Louis realizes they’re kissing with their eyes open. _Wanker_.

Louis tries to pull back in outrage, only, once he does, Harry looks less mischievous and more uncertain. “It is me and you, right?”

“Always,” Louis manages, voice hoarse and croaking. “Against the bloody world.”

“Against the bloody world,” Harry agrees happily, and goes to kiss him again.

Louis reaches out and drags him closer for a hug, petting a hand through his curls and holding on for dear life. “Against the American market,” he says, after a short pause.

“And Europe as well,” says Tiamat, coming closer and sprawling against their sides.

Liana clings to her neck the whole way over, and stays there once they’re all in a heap.

Louis gets a hand free so that he can find her in the dark, stroking along her back and fastening a hand to her side.

Harry sucks in a very shaky breath but doesn’t say anything.

“That would be the definition of the whole bloody world, I’d think,” Louis tells Tiamat, who simply shakes her head at him. She doesn’t call him an idiot, but she thinks it, for certain.

Louis gives Liana one last pet before retreating his hand back up to Harry’s curls, then down his back, and then around to the Leeds wristband they’d gotten to get into the festival. He and Harry had ended up with the things on their left wrists (like everyone else in their friend group) but for some reason they’d spent the next few minutes giggling like absolute _tits_ about it, while Stan very loudly made plans to do ‘literally anything other than watch the lovebirds’ for the entire festival.

Neither of them have taken them off, and Louis doesn’t think he really wants to, actually. He’ll leave it on till it breaks, at least. They seems pretty sturdy, though, because he’s been twisting Harry’s round and round for the past few minutes, and it’s not showed any signs of breaking.

“Louis,” says Harry, into the silence. “Stop that. You’ll break it.”

Louis rolls his eyes a bit fondly at him but pulls his hands back. “It’s just a bit of fabric, Harold,” he points out.

“It is not,” Harry says somewhat redundantly, because it is in fact just a bit of fabric. He takes hold of Louis’ hand before he can fully pull it away and drags it up so that it’s flush against his heart.

“It is too,” says Louis, voice gone a bit quiet around the edges. He can feel every breath Harry takes like this, pressed front to front in a bloody tent. “Hey, H?”

Harry hums in response and doesn’t let go of Louis’ hand.

“Just so we’re clear; you’re not going to tire of me in my old age, yeah?”

Harry’s fingers tighten around Louis’. “No, you dickhead,” he says quietly. “Just as long as you’re not going to decide I’m too young for you.”

Louis shuffles around so that he can look Harry in the eyes. He doesn’t look sad, or worried, and he’s smiling up at Louis like Louis is his whole world. That should scare him, Louis thinks, but. It doesn’t, really, since he supposes it’s only fair; Harry’s his whole world, too.

“Well, I mean,” he says. “Have you seen Zayn’s cheekbones? And Liam’s biceps? And Niall’s entire body like.” He breaks off. “I suppose if I have to settle with _you_.”

Harry goes to knee Louis in the groin. “Dick,” he says, and then giggles at his own play on words.

“Love you,” Louis tells him, shaking his head and wincing. “Ends of the world and all that, was that what you said?”

“I’m pretty sure it was more romantic when I said it,” says Harry, so Louis flips them over so that he can kiss the smugness out of him. They end up in some sort of tickle fight, however, because Harry is a cheat and Louis hasn’t been around his sisters long enough that he’s started to be ticklish again. Around them, the noise of the crowd hasn’t died down in the slightest, laughter and footsteps mingling in with the bleed of music from the stage nearest to them.

\--

[x](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/108859030113501184)    [x](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/108860887158366208)    [x](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/108861320710987776)    [x](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/108863253853118464)

“It’s Stan’s fault,” Louis says, once Harry opens the door to the flat looking sleep ruffled and bemused. “He’s the one who made me drop my phone in the toilet.”

Harry opens his mouth. Pauses. Closes it again.

Louis shoves a foot into the door before he can close that. “Anyway, were you sleeping?”

Harry continues to look amused. “Was I sleeping when a bunch of our fans decided to blow up my phone with tweets?” he asks.

Louis shuts the door behind Tiamat and scowls, walking forward so that he can drape himself all over Harry. “It’s not my fault my phone wouldn’t ring anyone,” he says. “Blame Stan.”

“When exactly did you drop your phone into the toilet?” Harry asks. When Louis glares at him, he very quickly amends, “when exactly did Stan drop your phone into the toilet?”

“In Maga,” Louis says, pulling away from Harry. “I think he was pissed about the whole t-shirt thing.”

Harry pauses. “T-shirt thing,” he repeats.

“I kept losing my top, see,” says Louis, heading towards the kitchen and ignoring the rumble of his stomach. “You fancy cereal for lunch?”

Harry fastens himself to Louis’ back like a very warm, very aroused octopus. “Kept losing your top?” he repeats. “I only saw the one picture. Did it happen more than once?”

Louis leans into his touch. “Mmm, like twice?” he says. Asks. “Why--you jealous?”

Harry lets his hand drag down to cup Louis’ cock. “Extremely,” he says. “But I’m also hungry, so.” He gives Louis one last squeeze before pulling away.

Louis lets that sink in for a few moments before scowling, refusing to meet Tiamat’s eyes, and stalking into the kitchen after Harry. “You’re such an arsehole, Harry Styles,” he says, settling into one of the chairs and watching Harry rummage through their fridge.

Harry pauses to dimple at him, reaching out an arm so Liana can scamper over to sit by Louis on the side. “Yes, but I’m your arsehole,” he says.

Louis doesn’t make a joke about that, but only because he can’t be sure Harry won’t throw him out of the flat and refuse to let him back in no matter how many people Louis tweets about it. “Right,” he says instead. “Right.”

There’s a short pause.

“Speaking of ars--” Louis tries to say, since he could go knock on one of the boy’s doors if he had to.

“I will throw you out of this flat,” says Harry, pointing at him with a carton of milk.

Louis raises both of his hands in defense, sauntering forward until he’s shoved himself between Harry and the still open fridge. “Mmm,” he says, putting his hands on Harry’s hips and giving them a squeeze. “No you won’t.”

“No I won’t,” Harry agrees, setting the milk down somewhere and smiling.

“I mean imagine the headlines,” Louis says, stroking along Harry’s skin. “Louis Tomlinson left homeless by his own arsehole. The press would have a field day; we’d make headlines.”

Harry’s mouth falls open.

“Oh my God,” says Liana.

“Get out of this flat,” says Harry.

“Now, Harold,” says Louis. “I seem to remember you telling me it was us against the bloody world.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, that was before you started thinking you were clever.”

“But I _am_ clever,” says Louis. “Fandom says.”

Harry shakes his head. “Fandom has given you a big head.”

Liana snorts. “Fandom has given you a big arse, more like,” she says.

This time Louis’ mouth is the one open.

“What?” says Harry’s daemon. “Am I not allowed to make terrible puns, or something?”

Louis turns to face Tiamat. “Marry her,” he says seriously, ignoring the way Harry’s cheeks go a bit pink. “Now.”

“I don’t think management would like that much,” his daemon replies.

“Fuck management,” says Louis.

“Not at our wedding, I hope,” says Tiamat, and Harry starts laughing.

“Where is the _romance_?” says Liana, sounding equally amused, and Louis is joining Harry in his mirth, dragging his hand up so that he’s got them draped over Harry’s shoulders.

“Right here,” Louis says, into the space between them, and  when Harry grins, he kisses him.

Right fucking _here_.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lOOK THEY TALKED. Woooo resolution la la la ignoring September 2011. (as an aside, I do know Zayn cannot swim but he jumped into the damn pool so let's just assume it was rather shallow and he got out immediately after?) Daemon primer is [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau) (updated with more random information/names) on my tumblr. Rebloggable masterpost [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/102734949935/fic-i-need-you-here-with-me-now). Everyone should come say hiiiii.


	9. September 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M. NEW YEARS AND HOLIDAYS AND FINALS WEEK BUT I'M ALIVE AND THIS FIC LIVES ON. I'm about to be going abroad BUT I AM ALSO TOO MUCH IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC TO NOT FINISH IT IT'S SO CLOSE TO THE END YOU GUYS.
> 
> Timeline for [2011](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/timeline-2011). Also Bulletproofhalo's [September 2011 Timeline](http://bulletproofhalo.tumblr.com/post/49368490619/timeline-september-2011), which was terribly helpful. Also, my parents brains were picked extensively for the whole. Rolling Stones thing. Which was an experience. YOU'LL NOTICE RONNIE WOOD'S DAEMON FROM WAS NOT REALLY MENTIONED PLEASE HELP ME IF YOU ARE A STONES FAN AND HAVE IDEAS.
> 
> Betaed by Sabrina, Vic, and Melanie. Britpicked by Jess. All other mistakes are my own.

**September 2011**

**\--**

So like, in hindsight, the [twitter trend](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/109304927364456449) was maybe _not_ the best idea Louis’ ever had, but as a point in his favor, Harry was the one who’d shown absolutely no knowledge of the basic rules of flatsharing by walking into the toilet while Louis was having a wee. And if that wee was being had while [Louis was sat down on the toilet](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/statuses/109301947659595776), that was between Louis and Tiamat and the toilet in question--there was really absolutely no need for Harry to go around tweeting it to mass groups of people. And like, he shouldn’t have been in the toilet in the first place! Louis only let him get away with it because the arsehole started spouting off about how they were lovers now and the rules of flatsharing didn’t apply to lovers, and Louis’ traitorous brain was too busy imagining growing old with Harry Goddamn Styles to realize that he was halfway back out of the loo and opening up his phone. So maybe it wasn’t the best idea Louis had had, but it was definitely one of the funniest, Harry’s disgruntled damn puppy dog face aside.

“Hazza,” he says, after Harry sighs at him for like the fourth time. “I was joking.”

Harry angles his phone around to show Louis the twitter trends and sighs again.

“Do you want me tweet about how I was joking?” Louis continues. “I can tweet that I was joking--I will go back on my mischievous word for you because for some reason I love you very dearly, [Harry-wees-with-the-seat-down Styles](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/109302914329231360)\--” Harry throws his phone at him and Louis just barely dodges it. He keeps talking. “--never mind that you walked in on me mid wee and proceeded to tweet the entire world about the going ons of our own private toilet like an absolute _wanker_ \--”

Harry gives up on throwing things at Louis and tackles him back onto their bed, never mind they have to be well dressed for an event later that evening. He’s incredibly single minded about the whole thing, arranging their limbs together until they’re essentially spooning on the bed and even going so far as to dump Liana atop Louis’ head to complete the picture.

Tiamat pauses for a moment before strolling across the bed, setting one great paw on Harry’s back, smirking at Louis with her eyes, and then circling like a damn cat and flopping her entire weight across the two of them; she’s bloody heavy and Louis can’t quite help but groan under her weight.

He’s just opened his mouth to grumble at her when the door to their bedroom comes open and Liam wanders in with his hand over his eyes. “Tell me the two of you are decent,” he says.

Louis lets out a particularly obscene moan out for good measure.

“Never mind, I’ll come back later,” says Liam, still covering his eyes, and he goes tromping back out of their bedroom, Bethania following after him with a concerned furrow to her brow.

Louis stares after him with vague amusement.

“Louis?” says Harry, after a short pause.

“Mm?”

“How did Liam get into our flat?”

Louis opens his mouth and closes it. “Well,” he says.

Harry lifts his head off Louis’ chest and raises one eyebrow at him.

Louis shoves at him with one hand. “Oh come off it,” he says. “Don’t act like you didn’t give Zayn and Niall both keys.”

Harry just keeps staring at him with his one damn eyebrow raised, but doesn’t deny it.

Louis continues shoving at him until he’s basically just scrabbling at Harry’s t-shirt covered shoulders. “Hazza,” he whines out.

Harry pushes off Louis slightly so that he can strip his t-shirt off, unsettling Tiamat in the process, before flopping back across Louis with his kit partway off.

Neither Tiamat nor Louis move for a while.

“Right,” Liana says finally, from atop Louis’ head. “I’m going to remind the both of you that we have that thing to go to--”

“They really are like bloody rabbits,” interrupts Tiamat.

Louis glowers at her over Harry’s shoulder, but his daemon doesn’t get off them.

“Absolutely not,” says Liana succinctly. “Perrie Edwards’ has got a rabbit. Whenever she’s on the telly Fi gets all floaty and shit. I refuse to compete with Zayn Malik.”

Louis pauses to digest that. “What?” he says.

“Perrie Edwards,” Harry’s daemon explains. “Have you seen Zayn?”

Louis blinks. “What?” he says again.

Liana scoffs at him.

Louis blinks again, before turning to address Harry. “Hazza,” he says slowly. “Are you jealous of Zayn?”

Harry’s mouth falls open and he goes a bit pink, but he sounds mostly unaffected when he replies. “No.”

Louis lifts one of his eyebrows.

“No--I mean, like, I think the point Li was making that if Ti was a rabbit Zayn might...like you?”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” says Tiamat, but Louis talks over her.

“Oh, well, in that case. You’ve let me down, Ti.”

His daemon lifts herself up off Harry and sits down next to the two of them. “Oh?”

“Have you _seen_ Zayn?” asks Louis, recycling Liana’s phrasing. He keeps a straight face through years of being an older sibling and beating Stan at poker.

When Harry glowers down at him and pouts, he breaks, however, smirking up at him and letting the younger lad manhandle him some more. Harry ends up pressed more firmly to every inch of Louis, both massive hands gripping at his wrists with their noses inches apart.

“We have that thing,” Louis whispers against his lips.

Harry’s eyes follow the movement of his mouth avidly. “Yeah,” he says.

“Also this is entirely where the conversation started,” Louis continues conversationally, like he isn’t about three seconds from fucking his hips up against Harry’s cock, which Louis thinks is getting hard.

“Mm?” Harry hasn’t stopped looking at Louis’ lips for that entire sentence.

Louis slips his arms through Harry’s grip on his wrists until he reaches Liana, stroking along the bits of her he can reach, watching with a half smirk as Harry’s cheeks go pink and his pupils dilate. He’s definitely getting hard now. “Rabbits?” Louis explains.

Harry’s eyes finally snap away from Louis’ mouth, focusing instead on Louis’ face. “Right,” he says.

Louis shifts a little on the bed, baring his neck and trying not to shudder too noticeably when Harry’s fingers find the Leeds wristband he’s still got on and start to play with the ends. “Yeah,” he says.

“Okay, charity,” interrupts Tiamat, when it becomes clear no one else is going to speak--Liana too busy shaking against Louis’ hair as Louis strokes over the ridges of her spine and Harry and Louis are too busy nearly fucking with Liam in their flat.

Because Liam is in their flat. Right. Louis stops touching Harry’s daemon and untwists his wrist from Harry’s grip. “Charity thing,” he agrees, pushing at Harry until he can roll away from him and try to regain control of his breathing. “Gotta--do that.”

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry whines. “We’ve got _hours_.”

Louis goes to respond but before he can, the door to their bedroom comes open again, and Liam walks in with his hands over his eyes. Also again.

He ends up standing in front of the bed for a few moments, before Louis puts him out of his misery.

“Payno,” he says. “We’re not going to have sex with you _right_ _there_.”

Liam doesn’t remove his hands from his eyes. “I don’t know that,” he says. “For all I know you could be into that.”

“Into that,” repeats Harry.

“Some people are into that,” explains Liam. “It’s a thing, like--google exhibitionism.”

“I’m not going to google exhibitionism, Liam,” says Louis, which he is aware is not, ‘Harry and I are definitely not _some people_ ’, but he doesn’t really have time to think about that, because the door to their bedroom is opening again and Niall and Zayn are pushing into the room.

“--I told you Liam didn’t get convinced to join a massive orgy, Niall,” Eirian is in the middle of explaining, while Niall looks red-faced and Zayn just looks amused.

“Why has Liam got his hands over his eyes?” he asks.

“Harry and I are exhibitionists,” Louis explains, dragging his hands up back behind his head and falling back against the pillows. He glances at Harry, who also looks amused. “How _do_ you feel about orgies?”

“Dunno,” says Harry, looking like he’s considering getting back on top of Louis. “Do you reckon Niall’d be good in bed?”

Louis pauses and gives Niall a long once over. He turns to Zayn. “So, Zayn, how do you feel about orgies?”

Harry cackles, hands going up to slap over his mouth, and Tiamat starts purring, curling around where Harry’s still half kneeling on the bed and settling up close to his chest.

“Fuck you,” says Niall. “I’m giving you the key back.”

Louis flaps a hand at him and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he says.

 “Anyway,” says Zayn, reaching out to grab Liam’s hand and pull them away from his eyes. He turns to Harry. “Harry.”

Harry stands to attention. “Yes?”

“Have you got something to tell us?” asks Zayn.

Harry pauses. “...No?” he says.

“Oh?” says Zayn. “Nothing....loo related?”

The pause where Harry realizes that Zayn isn’t saying Lou as in Louis or their stylist, but loo as in toilet, is quite a bit longer. “ _Hey_!” Harry says once he’s realized, dragging the word out. “Le _wis_!”

Louis gets to his feet and goes to give Zayn a high five. “Nice,” he says.

“I _do_ not wet the bed!” interrupts Harry, still sounding disgruntled. “You’re an arse.”

Louis turns back around to look at him, trying to figure out if the other lad is actually bothered. Of course, when he goes to actually investigate, he ends up getting pulled back down onto the bed and into Harry’s lap.

“Gotcha,” says Harry.

Louis can feel the tips of his ears blushing, but there’s really nothing he can do about that. Turns out, he has quite a bit of a thing for Harry pushing him around like he’s the older one. “So you have,” he manages.

“Okay,” says Zayn, from background. “I’m going to ignore how you and Haz seem to really get off on toilets--”

“I met Harry in a toilet!” says Louis.

“--Right,” says Zayn. “Don’t forget about the thing.”

“It’s a charity ball for Katie Piper,” points out Harry, but he’s still looking at Louis.

“You excited?” asks Louis, and then, before Harry can answer, “You going to need a nappy?”

“Fuck off,” says Harry, and shoves Louis off the bed.

\--

Eleanor Calder’s daemon is a Dalmatian called Lysander, and Louis’ been told it’s supposed to be romantic, seeing as Tiamat is for all intents and purposes a cat. Louis doesn’t think there’s anything romantic about the situation, and at the very least, Liam’s daemon is a dog, so why couldn’t he just date _Liam_. When he says at much, he just gets unimpressed looks and a casual reminder that he signed his name on the dotted line, and so Louis leaves the impromptu meeting with a sour taste in his mouth and Harry’s eyes on the back of his head. At least he hadn’t had to be alone.

“Why’d you say you would date Liam?” says Harry, as soon as they’re all settled into the car on route to film for Red or Black.

In the row directly in front of them, Liam makes a pained coughing noise and stares resolutely ahead, suddenly very interested in whatever it is Niall and Zayn have been saying. Talking about how excited they all are to be on TV, Louis thinks.

Harry’d been the only one slightly anxious, which Louis had had trouble reconciling with his general charisma and everyday confidence, until he remembered the first few weeks on X-Factor where Harry ended up stuck in a toilet trying not to bring up his breakfast. There was something about live television, he’d said.

Of course now, Harry’s not at all anxious, at least outwardly. When Louis finally turns his head to stare at him blankly, he finds Harry looking back at him with a deadpan, somewhat dead expression on his face.

He looks jealous.

Louis kind of wants to laugh. He doesn’t, because he doesn’t think Harry would find that very funny, but he does sort of go a bit swoopy in his stomach. He’s never had anyone be that jealous about him before. “I didn’t say I’d date Liam,” he tells Harry slowly. “I just said that if they wanted me to date someone with a dog daemon--”

“So you’re saying you like dog daemons,” interjects Liana, changing the atmosphere of the car ride considerably.

Paul starts making small talk with the driver about the filming location, Liam starts trying to engage Zayn in what is probably their hundredth conversation about Batman, and Niall just looks like he wants popcorn.

Louis is strangely flattered, all things considering. “I like to think I’m above that, actually,” he says, meeting Liana’s eyes head on. “It’s a bit archaic, don’t you think?”

Harry shrugs, which is the first real sign that he’s actually more bothered than he’s let on. Harry’s not exactly quiet about how unimpressed he is by the media’s obsession with daemon preferences and patterns, and the fact that he’s passed up a perfectly good chance to restate that says all that Louis needs to know.

He spares a quick thought towards the state of their windows--mirrored and not at all about to let anyone see what they’re up to--before he’s unbuckling his seat belt and settling himself nearly into Harry’s lap. They’ve pulled to a stop at a red light, so Louis doesn’t have to deal with centrifugal force in the process, which means the whole thing is rather graceful and magical, if he does say so himself.

Tiamat makes a grumbling noise in the back of her throat, Liana makes a surprised, worried noise in the back of _her_ throat, and Louis drapes his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Louis!” Harry sputters, hands coming to rest on Louis’ hips and eyes going a bit wild. “Don’t do that--what if we’re in an accident--”

“Paul,” Louis interrupts. “Are we going to be in an accident?”

“You can’t just ask Paul if we’re going to be in an accident--Paul isn’t all knowing,” Harry tries to say, even as Paul makes an amused noise in the back of his throat.

“Not intentionally,” he says, voice gruff but ultimately a tad charmed.

Louis smirks down at Harry. “Ha,” he says.

“I’ll come peck you bald if you don’t get back in your seat, though,” puts in Nuada, and Harry makes an ‘I told you so’ sort of face but doesn’t let go of Louis’ hips.

Louis shoots him an ‘I cannot get up if you don’t stop touching me’ sort of look and leans in so that he can start to count Harry’s lower lashes. “Harry Styles,” he says seriously. “The only daemon I’m interested in is yours, and it doesn’t really matter if she was some sort of poisonous snake or something I couldn’t cuddle with like a spider--”

Someone mutters something about telling Lou that Louis said that. Louis ignores them.

“--Now are you going to stop being an idiot so we can go make television history?”

Harry makes a grumbling noise but lets go of Louis’ hips so that he can get back in his seat. “’s still dangerous,” he mutters.

Louis leans back around to kiss him before he buckles in. “I’m glad you care so much, H bomb,” he says.

“H bomb,” repeats Liana.

“Shut up. I’m recovering from a near death experience,” retorts Louis. “I cannot be blamed for what comes out of my mouth.”

“But can you be blamed for what comes out of your twitter,” interjects Zayn, turning around in his seat and staring at Louis with one carefully raised eyebrow.

“What are you saying?” says Louis, with a slowly sinking feeling in his stomach.

“‘[Harry’s smile](https://twitter.com/alltimellie/status/110674959088627712),’” says Zayn. “‘[Harry’s eyes, Harry’s ](https://twitter.com/alltimellie/status/110674959088627712)[_everything_](https://twitter.com/alltimellie/status/110674959088627712)[, he’s just that beautiful--](https://twitter.com/alltimellie/status/110674959088627712)’”

Louis makes a horrified squeaking noise and goes to punch him in the arm. “Shut up, Zayn!” he says a bit shrilly.

Tiamat seems unconcerned. “Why are you so bothered--you did retweet that for everyone to see.”

Louis crosses his  arms across his chest and sits back in his seat. “Fuck off,” he grumbles.

His daemon rolls her eyes. “For everyone to see,” she repeats.

Harry shoots Louis a look out the corner of his eye. “I thought it was cute, Lou,” he starts to say.

“Yeah, you would, but you _love_ me,” Louis interjects before he can finish. And then he means to keep speaking, but he gets a little distracted by the soft way Harry is looking back at him.

Only when Harry goes to speak, Niall interrupts the both of them asking about food.

“Niall,” says Zayn. “Mum and Dad were having a moment.”

“I thought Liam was the dad,” says Niall. Normally Louis would let this simmer out on its own, but Harry still seems a bit off because of the Eleanor discussion, so he reaches out and intertwines their hands together.

“But does that make Harry my lover?” he asks Niall, giving Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Are you my lover, Haz?”

“I should hope so,” says Harry, but he looks less jealous and more amused at this point, which Louis absolutely counts as a win.

“No but in this hypothetical One Direction family situation,” Louis says anyway, leaning forward in his seat so that he can breathe loudly in Liam’s ear. “Are you my husband, Payno?”

Liam makes a sputtering noise and goes flailing away from Louis, gone a startling shade of red and both not answering the question and rubbing at his ear. “You’re fucking _loud_ , Tommo,” he says. “We are in a car.”

Louis raises one eyebrow. “We’re about to be chased by screaming fans, Liam,” he says dryly. “Please knuckle down.”

Liam narrows his eyes back at him. “I’ll show you my knuckles,” he starts to say, before Niall pulls him into a friendly hug turned headlock.

“Still hungry,” he says.

Louis uses his other hand to throw his phone at him.

And then they’re arriving at Wembley Park and spend the next few hours [getting chased by fans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igMf_nbglRQ).

\--

It’s  half eight in the morning and Harry can’t stop singing _What Makes You Beautiful_. He’s smashing it every time, all the way across the room where he’s been getting dressed, technically speaking, but there’s a more than obvious nervous twitch to how he goes about styling his curls.

Louis would strangle him, but his own nerves are through the roof as well, because they’ve got to perform live on television for the first time tomorrow. They’re absolutely not strangers to performing live, but this is different. This is their own song and their own album and their own breaking point. Louis’ very good at pretending to be a constant joker, but he knows that this is big. Like. So big.

Louis feels like he’s caught on the precipice of something, like there’s no going back after this moment, and he thinks back to seeing Eleanor’s picture, hearing about her daemon, learning that he was supposed to _date_ her, and his fingers are flitting across the keys on his phone before he can stop himself.

Tiamat picks her head up off her paws once he’s done, tail lashing back and forth, and she gets up and rests her head in his lap.

Harry’s working his way through the end of his solo from the toilet now, but he halts abruptly in his singing. “Lou?”

Louis sinks his fingers into Tiamat’s fur and thinks, [_I’m so damn tired of having to live without you_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KbgZZo0Zfo). “Yeah?”

“Are you excited?”

That’s not exactly what Louis thought he’d be saying, seeing as there’s no way Harry hasn’t seen his [tweet](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/112065620400545792), but he’ll take it. “Yeah, of course.” He gives Tiamat one long scratch behind her ears and gets to his feet to go find in the toilet. “Are you?”

Harry emerges wiping his hands looking a bit manic. “Yeah,” he says, voice breaking only once. “Bit nervous, though.”

Louis manages a smile. “Well I mean,” he says. “You sounded good yesterday.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Louis, you’re my boyfriend,” he says. “You’re supposed to think I _always_ sound good.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. He’s got damn butterflies, but he’s ignoring them. “Oops,” he says. “Reckon I’m an awful boyfriend, then, since that last one was a wee bit pitchy.”

Liana pokes her head up above Harry’s head. “What?”

“Pitchy?” Louis smirks again. “Like, you were flat, Hazza. I’m not going to sugarcoat it just ‘cause you sometimes put your dick in me--”

Harry snorts. “And Liam says you’re the most romantic.”

“Liam says anyone’s romantic--Liam thinks that hairballs are attractive--”

“You’re never going to let him give that down,” says Harry.

“--so therefore.” Louis comes forward and pokes Harry once in the nose. “Liam’s opinion is invalid.” He lets his fingers trail along the line of Harry’s jaw. “I am the most romantic, though.”

“Yeah?” Harry looks a bit shy. “Enough to tweet lyrics about me?”

Louis goes to pull his fingers back, and Harry’s hand darts up to catch him before he can. He wraps his fingers around Louis’ wrist and holds on, green eyes large and wide and suddenly vulnerable. Louis swallows.

“I think you’re mixing us up, Hazza,” he says, well aware of how shy his voice has become. Because Harry is _it_ for him, see, and he might have gone on about it in the heat of the moment but they’re. They’re on the edge of global success and Louis’ twitter follower count keeps growing and Harry’s twitter follower count keeps growing and everyone really likes _What Makes You Beautiful_.

“Louis.” Harry doesn’t let go of his hand. “I was pining. Don’t mock me.”

Louis slides his hand down to trace Harry’s mouth. “I don’t know why you were so terrified about telling me, H,” he says quietly. “I’ve been gone on you the moment we met.”

“Even though you walked in on us having a wee,” puts in Tiamat, from somewhere around their feet. “Like, it was embarrassing but it wasn’t all that bad.”

“It was horrifying,” says Liana. “Please don’t remind me.”

“Yeah, well.” Tiamat shrugs. “You made it better by settling in the middle of filming a television show.”

“Ugh, _don’t remind me_ ,” says Liana again, but even she seems subdued.

“Maybe it’s a pattern,” Louis says after a while, still staring into Harry’s eyes. “You walking in on me having a wee, I mean.”

Harry shakes his head. “Louis,” he whines.

“Maybe we should get married in a toilet,” he decides. “Continue the pattern.”

Harry lets go of his wrist abruptly and pulls him into a hug. “You’re an idiot,” he says softly.

Louis isn’t opposed to hugs ever, but Harry is shaking ever so faintly and hunched over, so Louis tightens his grip on him and buries his face in his hair. Harry is taller than him; Louis wonders when that will stop being surprising.

“I’m really bloody nervous,” whispers Harry. “Like really bloody nervous.”

Louis hugs him tighter. “Me too,” he tells Harry, at full volume, and then when Liana rolls her eyes at him. “ I mean--me too. Why are we whispering?”

Harry pulls out of the hug with a frown. “Lou we were having a moment,” he complains.

Louis drags him back in for another hug. “Sorry, sorry. Here. We can go again.”

Harry laughs into his Louis’ hair. “It’s not the same if we do it twice,” he says. “Ruins the magic.”

“No.” Louis tilts his head back and stares at Harry. “It’s like a rehearsal. Which we’ve got today. And you’re going to smash it today and tomorrow as well and it’ll still be magical.”

Harry shakes his head at him. “Yeah, alright, Lou,” he says.

Louis punches him on the arm. “It’s more than alright,” he says. “Now come on once more?”

Harry just laughs but cuddles in for another hug.

The next day, just before they’re due on stage for their performance, Harry leans in close to whisper to Louis. “I’m sleeping to dream of you too, Lou,” he says, like it’s a secret.

Louis thinks he looks fine when he gets on stage, done up in his usual stripes and bright blue trousers. Niall’d got to wear the red ones, which Louis wasn’t actually all that bothered by, but he’d been making a big deal about it to anyone who’d listen since Caroline had dressed him on the fifth.

They all look good actually, save Harry, who is still is shaking just a smidge. He manages to stop by the time they’re due to run on stage that night, but he doesn’t absolutely murder his solo like he’d been doing all yesterday. He just. [Runs out of breath](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igMf_nbglRQ).

Louis watches Liana out the corner of his eye because he’s not supposed to be staring too hard at Harry, and has to curl one of his hands into a fist to avoid reacting beyond that.

Harry’s carried on, because Harry is a damn professional, but Liana looks like she’s wilting.

They get off stage, film a [behind the scenes interview](http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/Wkitih0z6Wo) and stuff for some [sort of documentary](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4akakOJqRs), and all of the while Louis watches Harry, waiting.

When Harry holes himself up in their bedroom with nothing but negativity and Twitter, Louis gives him as long as it takes for him to fall asleep before he’s sneaking in after him, padding over to the bed silently and staring down at him.

“I love him a lot,” Tiamat tells Louis, into the silence, before jumping up onto the bed and practically smothering Harry into the mattress.

The younger boy stirs with a groan, brow furrowing, but he doesn’t wake up.

Louis presses his lips together. “Yeah,” he agrees, getting into bed as well.

\--

“You know,” says Liam, two days later, after a long day of interviews and their single being number one in several countries. “I think I’d date Louis, if one of us was a girl.”

There’s a short pause.

“What?” Louis says finally. He’d been paying careful attention to Harry, who’d been back to his usual charming self following one good cry in the shower the morning after _Red or Black_ that ended with Louis surreptitiously texting all the lads and also locating him and Harry some towels and pants so they weren’t naked for the resulting group hug.

He looks over at Liam now, who’s curled up on the other bed playing with Bethania’s ears.

“You know.” Liam looks like he regrets having spoken. “The [interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYXRYUpcLE4) [with Capital](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXjtnIB0Ku4). I think I’d date you.”

Louis blinks a few times. “Thank you?” he says finally. “I think?”

There’s another short pause, before Harry gets to his feet and plops himself down in Louis’ lap, stares hard at Liam, and then snogs Louis on the mouth. _Hard_.

Louis doesn’t know what to do with his hands--on the one hand, all of their closest friends are in the room with them, on the other, Harry is in his lap kissing him. When his fingers find Tiamat on the bed, Louis decides he really can’t be blamed for how he kisses Harry back, surging up a bit and meeting him halfway.

Harry makes a pleased humming noise, at which point Zayn very loudly interrupts.

“Oi!” says Zayn. “Some of us are trying to eat here.”

Louis pulls away from Harry’s lips and glares at him. “Are you saying we disgust you, Malik?” he says.

Zayn stares back at him unfazed. “I’m saying it’s like watching my sisters make out,” he says, and then pauses. “Fuck.”

Niall makes a crowing noise. “What kind of sisters have you got, mate?” he says.

Zayn throws a pillow at him, misses, and throws the other one as well.

That one connects, smacking into Niall’s chest with a audible thumping noise. “Oof,” says Niall. “Oi, Zayn--”

Zayn looks like he’s considering grabbing a third pillow.

“I second Zayn’s motion against public making out,” Niall says quickly, in one great gust.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

“So jealous.” Harry grinds his hips a little.

Louis wills himself not to get an erection. “The jealousest.”

“That’s not even a word and I agree,” says Tiamat.

“They’re jealous enough to invent new words,” agrees Liana.

“The four of you are insufferable,” says Zayn. “I’m leaving.”

“No, I want to hear more about Liam wanting to date Louis,” says Fikriyya. “Please.” She leaps off of Zayn’s shoulders and curls into a neat little ball, tail swooping under her nose. “Liam?”

Liam looks like he very much regrets having spoken. “Erm,” he says. “I mean, I’d date all of you?”

Louis would take the piss out of Liam because it’s Liam, but Harry hasn’t stopped moving his hips since that first grind, and not getting an erection is more important. “H,” he mumbles, aware that he’s fighting a losing battle. “H, I said I’d date you.”

“No,” says Liana. “You said you’d take us for the night--”

“--And then Ti nearly ate you,” interjects Harry.

“--and that you’d still struggle with handling us.”

Louis growls a little and reaches up to curl his fingers in Harry’s curls. “You _like_ it when I handle you,” he says, humping his own hips a little.

He’s aware of the other boys continuing the dating discussion, thinks he ought to be listening in incase any of them are besmirching his good name, but Harry’s pink, pink mouth is far more interesting. The younger boy’s biting at his lower lip, cheeks flushing, and he’s still wiggling around in Louis’ lap like an infernal tease. “Dunno,” says Harry. “I think _you_ like handling _me_.”

“There will be no handling of anyone,” interrupts Zayn again. “For the love of--you’d think the two of you had never got off before.”

Louis raises one impervious eyebrow and rocks his hips up again. “How do you know we have?” he says.

That seems to ease the tension, and Liam laughs. “Lou,” he says. “You consulted me on what flavor lube to buy.”

“You did?” Harry looks like Christmas has come early. “Aw, Liam.” He gets off of Louis’ lap and fumbles across to the other bed, settling into Liam’s lap and barely missing Bethania’s head. “I’m touched.”

Liam reaches up and pats Harry on the back. “You’re welcome, Hazza,” he says after a while. “Erm.”

Louis smiles at the two of them fondly.

“Your dick is touching me.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Oh my God--” says Bethania, from where she’s been displaced across the bed.

“What the fuck is this _band_?” Zayn says next.

“ _Pay_ no!” crows Niall, in the same breath.

“Oh my God,” says Liam, agreeing with his daemon and putting his head in his hands.

“Are you sure you want to date _me_ , Liam?” finishes Louis, triumphantly settling back on the bed with his hands crossed behind his head. “Seems like you’d much rather date Haz--”

“No one’s dating anyone,” Harry interrupts, suddenly serious, and the tension filters out of the room. “Except you and me.” Harry looks down, no longer meeting anyone’s eyes. “We’re the only ones dating.”

Louis frowns a little. “Yeah, course, Hazza,” he says, getting to his feet a little.

“Good.” Harry smiles a little, not quite reaching his eyes. “Good.”

Liam shoots Louis a worried look over top Harry’s head, brow furrowed and eyes questioning, but before Louis can say anything, Harry is leaning down to kiss Liam on the mouth.

Louis squawks, taken aback, and he’s up, grabbing Harry by the shoulders, and hauling the younger boy off of Liam and into his arms before he can help himself. Tiamat’s done similar with Liana, pulling her between her paws and grooming her possessively. Louis thinks it’s ridiculous--Harry is a person and he doesn’t need Louis to go all caveman on him, but they’d been having some sort of moment before the snogging started.

“Harold,” he says, aghast.

“I’m leaving you for Liam,” Harry tells Louis’ clavicle. “He’s got better biceps.”

“He does not!” says Louis, even as Liam preens a little, and bloody Zayn leans over to poke one bicep.

“They are pretty great, mate,” Zayn says, and Liam flushes a little.

“You’re dead to me,” says Louis, he turns to Niall. “Niall, who’s got the better biceps.”

Niall stares back at him impassively before flexing his own arms. “Reckon it’s me,” he decides, going all out and actually kissing one arm.

Louis flings Harry towards the bed, sparing a quick glance to make sure he doesn’t brain himself on the floor, and settles into Niall’s lap. “You’re right,” he says. “If you’re leaving me for Liam, I’m leaving you for Niall.”

He expects Harry to laugh, but instead, Harry makes a sour face. “Eirian’s a goat,” he says.

Louis’ mouth goes dry. “Oh,” he says, the conversation from a few days back at the forefront of his mind. “You know I just meant that it was stupid to have me date someone just ‘cause her daemon’s a dog, Haz,” he says finally. “Right?”

Niall shifts a little so that he’s better being a makeshift pillow.

“Yeah, I guess,” says Harry, lips still pursed.

“We don’t like sharing,” Liana says finally. “Give him a break.”

“Li!” Harry says, voice high and cheeks flushed. “Shut up!”

“What?” Liana rolls her eyes. “You were being moody, Styles. First about Eleanor and then about _Red or Black_ and it was getting _annoying._ ”

“Well excuse me for being upset that I cocked up our performance, _Aeliana_ ,” Harry says viciously, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll try to have _thicker skin_ next time.” It’s obvious he’s quoting his daemon’s words back at her, because Liana’s eyes go dark, and she’s flitting off across the bed towards Louis without a word.

Louis can only stare between the two of them without speaking, arms opening automatically for Liana when she climbs up into his lap. “H,” he says slowly.

Harry’s eyes look very round and very near watery, so Louis closes his mouth.

“Erm,” he says, thinking back to the Capital Interview. “How come you’re not upset I said I’d date Zayn, Haz?”

For a moment no one speaks, and Louis worries that they’re going to push it, but then Niall perks up. “Yeah, Harry,” he says. “Why didn’t you?”

Harry shoots Niall a grateful look that makes something ugly and jealous settle into Louis’ stomach. “Have you seen Zayn’s cheekbones?” says Harry.

“Have you seen Louis’ dick?” interrupts Zayn. “Lou’s cock is much better than my cheekbones, H.”

Louis is nodding along before he can stop himself. “Exactly--thank you, Zayn,” he says. Then out the side of his mouth, “Have we been naked in front of Zayn?”

“X-Factor,” says Tiamat. “Week Two. Wanking in the showers--”

“Right, thank you!” Louis interrupts, flushed to the roots of his hair. Right. That. It wasn’t his fault that Harry was constantly wanting to be touching any time there were together, alright? Louis is in no way deserving of the smirk that Zayn is leveling at him.

“You’ve seen Louis’ dick?” says Harry, sounding amused.

“I think we’ve all seen each other’s dicks, H,” Liam says dryly. “None of you have shame.”

“Yes, but Liam.” Louis shifts around so that Niall can pet his hair. “You say that like _you_ do.”

Liam throws the remaining pillow at Louis. “Oh piss off.”

He misses Louis’ head and hits Niall instead, and the Irishman makes a noise of protest.

“Why’s it always us,” says Eirian, and Louis turns to look at her.

“Why’re you all the way over there?” he says, since Niall’s daemon seems to have taken advantage of the distraction to go sprawl across the other bed.

“Well your giant arse was in the way,” Eirian starts to say.

Louis elbows Niall in the side at the same time Tiamat leaps over onto his daemon with a battle cry.

“I think your arse is lovely, Lou,” Harry says sweetly, as Fi and Bethania and even Liana get wrapped up in the battle on the other bed.

Louis giggles. “Yeah but, Haz,” he says. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to think that.” He doesn’t say that Harry’s the only person whose boyfriend he wants to be, so much that he’s barely said more than a few words to Eleanor, but Harry hears it anyway.

“That’s a good point--I’m only in it for your bum anyway.” And he grins, dimples like two giant craters in the side of his face, until Louis comes forward and kisses him.

Two days later he has to take Eleanor to Niall’s eighteenth birthday, but. It’s not bad, all things considered. He texts Harry for most of the night, and tries not to think too hard about it.

\--

As [tweets](https://twitter.com/harry_styles/status/116234645863018496) to start relationships go, it’s all rather tame, Louis thinks. Harry hadn’t gone out of his way to tweet Caroline--she’d tweeted him, and he’d been having a conversation with Tim anyway, so it wasn’t entirely unfounded nor unprompted. Still, it leaves Louis more than a little off balance, which doesn’t help matters much when he ends up sat next to Nick Grimshaw for the GQ Fashion Awards. Nick’s nice enough--funny, and witty, and quick enough on his feet that Louis should by all means _like_ him, but something about the way Harry has glommed onto him leaves Louis sipping at his wine listlessly and making inane conversation with James Corden.

He’d been sitting between Harry and Nick for most of the meal, but then Nick had suggested they swap, as Louis was talking more with James, and Harry more with Nick, and Nick’s bloody daemon had said something that made Liana nearly howl, and so Louis had got to his feet a bit awkwardly and ended up staring hard at the table cloth.

He doesn’t think anyone has noticed.

“You’re being an idiot,” says Tiamat. Obviously she’s noticed. “Harry loves us.”

Louis shoots Harry and Nick another long look before turning to look at his daemon. “Yeah, well. They’re both _hipsters_.”

It’s true. They’d started talking about some obscure band the moment they’d sat down, picking up right where they’d left off when the five of them first met Nick on X-Factor. Louis had already been somewhat off balance because of the the telling off he and Harry had received for being so touchy feely before they filmed for the [Teen Awards](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzWrztjAmzI) and [This Morning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViEdSlaZh94). He’d chalked it up to to a combination of the Caroline tweets and that for why his stomach was suddenly in knots. Apparently, he’s still somewhat bothered.

“Louis,” says James, interrupting his thoughts. “How’s your mum?”

Louis startles a little and turns to look at the older man, managing a smile. “Good, thanks,” he says, smiling. “I’ll have to tell her I saw you again.”

James raises a brow. “You mean you calling me up once you’d made it big in London for pizza doesn’t count?” he says.

Louis grins. “Had to introduce you to this one, didn’t I?” he says, sticking a thumb off towards Harry, who perks up immediately.

“Are you talking shit about me,  Tomlinson?” he says, right in the middle of one of Nick’s sentences.

Louis isn’t exactly proud, but part of him preens at that.

“Saw that,” says James’ daemon, Niniane. She’s some sort of fur seal, which Louis remembers mostly being endeared by when he was younger, and now he can’t help but think it’s just perfect for James. The next time he’d seen James was when he showed up in London for X-Factor and he had dragged Harry along for moral support. Doesn’t stop him from teasing the older man. It’s kind of part of their thing.

Niniane getting on Tiamat’s case for how arse-over-tits Louis is for Harry isn’t, but the moment James had set foot in their flat, his daemon had been insufferable.

Louis hides a smirk into his hand and ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head yelling at him to get his elbows off the table.

Tiamat swats at Niniane under the table. “No you didn’t.”

“Depends on if you’re talking shit about _me_ , Styles,” Louis says back, ignoring Tiamat. “Are you talking shit about me?”

“I know you lot met in the loo, right?” interrupts Zayn, who’s probably had more wine than he really should seeing as he’s not technically legal. “But can we stop talking about shit?”

Niall makes a pleased cackling noise and Liam very kindly reaches around to take Zayn’s near empty wine glass.

“Thanks,” says Fikriyya, sounding all floaty. “Was worried I was going to start chasing my tail.”

There’s a beat, where Louis feels all the blood in his face drain and the five of them stare around at each other and Nick and James and everyone else in the room--handlers, celebrities, actual real life bloody _GQ Models_ \--before Louis finds his voice. Because he can. He can do this.

“What?” he says, not looking at anyone in particular. “You’ve never seen a drunk genet before?” Zayn is probably going to kill him for that in the morning, but Louis is going to kill him first because they are in public and you can’t just go around letting your daemon talkto _other people_ in public.

Nick is the first person to laugh, but when Louis turns to look at him, he’s got a very knowing looking his eye.

“I don’t think I got your name?” says his daemon, dipping his head towards Fi, whose tail sways a little.

And apparently Louis’ more than a little drunk tonight as well, even though he’s allowed, because Nick’s daemon definitely sounds male and Nick’s daemon definitely knows Fi’s name. Louis doesn’t like to brag, but they’re kind of a big deal, now, so the entire bloody world knows Fi’s name. And Eirian’s, and Bethania’s, and Liana’s and even Tiamat’s, which is _weird_ and not at all what Louis signed up for, honest.

But. Nick’s daemon. Nick’s male daemon that Louis does know the name of but he can’t be arsed to remember at the moment.

“It’s--” Tiamat starts to say and Louis kicks at her with his feet. He’s wearing maroon trousers. Why the hell is he wearing maroon trousers? “We look good in maroon trousers,” mutters Tiamat.

Louis ignores her. He meets Harry’s eyes across the table and can’t really help but smile a bit giddily. He hadn’t planned on meeting his soulmate, either, to be fair. And God knows Louis doesn’t regret _that_.

When he tunes back in a bit more, James is watching Louis again, sipping his own wine and smiling in a way that is far too knowing.

“You’re good together,” Niniane tells Tiamat, slipping up James’ pant leg and into his lap. “You’re cute.”

“We are not cute!” Louis bristles, and Nick’s attention zeroes in on him like some sort of terrible, witty, homing beacon.

Harry’s does as well, but Louis is always the center of Harry’s attention. Which. So much for that not bragging thing.

Perhaps Louis should set down the wine.

He sets down the wine.

“I dunno, popstar,” says Nick, and Louis’ lips curl despite themselves. “As boy bands go, you’re all quite cute, to be fair.”

“I think Niall’s officially the cute one,” pipes up Zayn. He’s a little less red in the face now that Liam’s taken away his alcohol, but Louis can tell he’s still a bit gone. Which is fabulous and Louis is going to tease him _endlessly_.

“I am very adorable, aren’t I?” agrees Niall, setting a fist down on the table with a bit of a bang.

Louis doesn’t think anyone looks over at that but he’s forever thankful for Liam, sat between Niall and Zayn, who reaches out and takes Niall’s wine as well.

Thank God Liam Payne was blessed with only one kidney and sensibility, Louis decides.

“You are very cute,” says Nick. “But Tomlinson’s cuter, I think.”

Louis honestly doesn’t know why Nick’s calling him by his surname--has he been doing it all night? He can’t remember--but it’s annoying is what it is. He shoots Tiamat a somewhat sour look that has Niniane giggling into James’ lap and pointedly ignores the entire table.

“Louis is adorable,” says Harry, interrupting the space. “Sorry, Niall.”

Niall gestures with his free hand, and then goes to take a sip of his wine with his non free hand, and then frowns very hard when he finds it empty.

The entire table ends of staring round at Liam, who stares back entirely unaffected.

Both of the glasses are empty.

“Did you...?” Louis starts to ask, not sure if he wants to know the answer--from the way Liam went on about the kidney thing Louis was seriously starting to think he’d up and _die_ the moment he so much as breathed in alcohol--but before he can, Harry interrupts.

“No really,” he says. He’s gone all glassy eyed and pink cheeked and Louis is grinning back at him before he can help himself. “Lou’s gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you like our hair stylist so much, Harry,” says Liam, a bit sharper than usual.

Louis decides that he’s not gone and drunk the glasses.

“Beth says he dumped them in a plant,” Tiamat tells him, resting her head across his lap.

“Mmm,” says Louis.

“Ah, yeah,” says Harry, addressing Liam and looking down at the table, suddenly subdued.

Which simply won’t do. He was all bubbly and shiny and happy before, even if it was because he and Nick Grimshaw were nattering on about whatever and not because Louis was telling piss poor jokes.

“We could tell piss poor jokes,” says Tiamat, still half in Louis’ lap. He thinks she might seriously be considering chewing on one of Louis’ braces, which would be bad, he decides. But before he can tell her off, he’s remembering how Harry had looked with Caroline had come at Louis with said braces, and he gets more than a little distracted.

Louis shifts around in his seat a little.

“Anyway.” Louis has to give it to Nick, because it really is taking a Herculean effort to keep conversation going, especially since Liam appears to be talking Niall and Eirian down from tripping the next group of people to walk by their table. “You’re all very adorable popstars.”

“Thank you.” Zayn goes to grab more wine.

Liam twists around and slaps him without looking away from Niall.

Louis bites his lip to not laugh.

“Although I have to say that of the five of you, Hazza might be the cutest.”

Louis narrows his eyes and leans back in his seat and tries very desperately not to be jealous. He’s being ridiculous. Harry is his damn soulmate.

“I know,” he says, shifting around in his seat so that he can see Harry better over Nick Grimshaw’s massive bird daemon. Louis isn’t sure, but he reckons that he’s some sort of parrot, and the bright, showy green of his plumage somehow seems fitting. The both of them have got quiffs, which would be amusing if Liana’s first instinct hadn’t been to try to pet Ashtoreth’s.

“See,” Tiamat says smugly. “I knew you knew his name.”

This time Louis does kick her head off his lap. “Shut up,” he says.

To be fair, Harry had been well on his way to pissed when Nick had wandered over to their table anyway, and James had just finished a full scale hug attack that ended with Julia pretending not to be amused and Liana clingier than usual.

But that is besides the point. Louis is irrationally jealous over this and he’s going to continue to be until the alcohol gets out of his system.

“So, Harold was telling me about your next video,” says Nick. “You’re all off to New York to film it?”

Louis doesn’t say anything about the nickname but he sure as hell thinks it. He doesn’t get any time to say anything about it, however, because Niall jumps in, thrilled.

“Yeah it’s going to be sick,” he says. He’s so adorably fluffy and pink cheeked that Louis can’t say anything at this point, so he leans back in his seat and lets his bandmates do all the talking. He smiles when Niall mentions the tour, even though it’s not been announced officially, but other than that, he’s silent.

“You alright, Lou?” says Harry, once they’ve all gotten up out their seats and are milling about the room. He slides in next to Louis easily enough, one arm coming to rest around his waist and slipping behind one of the braces.

“Yep.” Louis pops the ‘p’ a little and tries not to sink too hard into Harry’s side. He’s not supposed to do that.

“Mmm.” Harry doesn’t look like he believes him.

Liana’s draped around his shoulders as she always is, but she’s not got her head round to face Louis. Louis would be offended, but he knows that it’s only because if she had been, she’d be on top of Louis’ head and they’d be getting a telling off and banned from speaking at private celebrity events.

It makes something ache in the pit of Louis’ chest and wish that _What Makes You Beautiful_ wasn’t so damn popular.

Harry tugs on one of Louis’ braces. “You’re thinking too hard,” he decides. “You shouldn’t think so hard.”

Louis wants to snap at him he really does, because one of them has to think hard, but Harry looks so happy and smiley and young in that moment that Louis just sighs and twirls one of his curls round his fingers. “I like you a lot, Styles,” he says quietly.

Harry’s dimples pop up on one side of his mouth. “Yeah?” he says.

Louis pulls away from him a little and raises one eyebrow. He opens his mouth to say something scandalous about Harry’s mouth and how much he likes Harry full stop, but before he can, Liana is making a hushed noise and smacking Louis in the face with her tail.

“It’s _Ronnie Bloody Wood_ ,” she hisses, scrabbling at Harry’s shoulders and practically shaking out of her skin. “Can you see Polymnia--oh my God we’re going to meet Polymnia--they’re coming this way--”

Louis watches Harry’s daemon with his eyebrow still raised, before turning to Harry, who he hopes is slightly more composed.

Harry is no more composed. He’s actually gone a little bit green around the edges of his face and Louis would worry about him throwing up if he didn’t know Harry well enough to know that this is not Harry’s pre-vomiting face.

“We’re so fucking drunk,” complains Tiamat, swishing her tail a little. “Li.”

“It’s _Ronnie Fucking Wood_ ,” says Liana, scampering off Harry’s shoulders and landing on Tiamat’s back.

Louis has never been happier for them having done the photos outside the place already.

His daemon knocks Liana onto the ground in a move that seems practiced and easy, but isn’t. “Is his middle name ‘fucking’ then?” she says. “Because you said it was ‘bloody’ a few moments ago--”

“He’s a _Rolling Stone_ ,” continues Liana, and now she’s bloody grooming. “Oh God, H, your hair--”

“Your hair looks fine, Haz,” says Louis, when Harry turns to him with barely concealed panic behind his eyes. “Now go meet your damn idol.”

Harry shoots him a quick look that means he’s about five seconds from kissing Louis. “Thanks,” he breathes. _Love you_ , he means. He doesn’t kiss Louis, though. Maybe Louis isn’t the only one over thinking.

Louis steps back a little bit more just in case, however, which is good, because Ronnie Wood is actually arriving in front of them and talking to them like they’re the word famous super stars and he’s like. A fan, or summat.

Ronnie Wood.

A _fan_.

Louis kind of gapes up at him and tries not to look too fond as Harry glows and goes star struck and Nick Grimshaw gets a death grip on [Liam’s](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/116642942051024898) arm.

So like. Louis is certain that Ronnie Wood gives them sort of advice, or something, and he smiles at Harry’s enthusiasm, and takes a [photo](http://www.nowmagazine.co.uk/celebrity-news/535096/ronnie-wood-i-ve-taken-one-direction-under-my-wing) with Niall, Liam, Harry, and Nick that is beautifully embarrassing and unflattering only for Nick. And then he just sort of. Walks off.

Louis is left staring after him a bit faintly because _Ronnie Fucking Wood_ , while Liam and Harry get their mobiles out immediately.

“Did you know I had a wee next to Ronnie Wood?” says Liam, looking down at his phone.

Louis very subtly gets his own out but only to check Twitter to see what his idiotic, drunk bandmates decide to tell the world.

“What?” says Nick, when it becomes clear that Liam’s talking to him and no one else.

“Yeah,” says Liam. He hasn’t tweeted anything embarrassing at all, just going on about [introducing Nick to Ronnie Wood and the surrealness of the night](https://twitter.com/Real_Liam_Payne/status/116642942051024898).

Louis puts his phone back down.

“Careful, Liam,” says Niall. “You don’t wanna end up like those two.” He jabs a thumb towards Harry and Louis, and only Louis lifts his head.

“Those two?” says Nick.

“Niall,” Louis hisses out the side of his mouth, because they can’t go blabbing it off to everyone. Even though he really desperately wants to, especially since it means he would have a reason to mark Harry up like a territorial cat.

“I draw the line at pissing on him,” says Tiamat.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Harry and Louis met in the toilet at X-Factor,” says Niall, after staring at Louis for a long, long time.

Louis keeps staring hard at Niall, but only Eirian cowers a little.

“Right,” says Nick, glancing between the two of  them for a while.

“[Anyway](http://singsonata.tumblr.com/post/34310415570/grimmy-talking-about-last-years-gq-dinner-with),” says Liam, after only a beat. “[It was all sorts of embarrassing, actually, ](http://singsonata.tumblr.com/post/34310415570/grimmy-talking-about-last-years-gq-dinner-with)[‘](http://singsonata.tumblr.com/post/34310415570/grimmy-talking-about-last-years-gq-dinner-with)[cause, like, he was Ronnie Wood](http://singsonata.tumblr.com/post/34310415570/grimmy-talking-about-last-years-gq-dinner-with)\--”

Louis tunes him out and makes his way over to Harry, who is furtively typing on his mobile with his tongue between his teeth.

“How do you spell ‘mahogany,’ Lou?” says Liana, looking over his shoulder.

“Um.”

Tiamat spells it for them all.

“Thanks,” says Harry, setting his phone down on their dinner table. “I just met Ronnie Wood.”

Louis shakes his head at him, bemused, before leaning over to pick up his phone. And then he giggles. “Really, Styles?”

Harry drops his head to the side and stares at him gleefully. “We just met Ronnie Wood, Louis,” he says.

“[You really know how many studio albums the Stones’ have got, Hazza](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/116642856101351424)?” says Louis.

Harry grins back at him. “Yep.”

“[And how many live albums](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/116642856101351424)?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a right fanboy, Styles.”

“The biggest.”

“I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“Hey,” says Liana. “You put a recording of yourself singing The Fray online!”

Louis goes to put his hands on his hips and stops himself barely, trying not to think about the _body language_ he may or may not be giving off.

“[I can’t believe you smelled ](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/116642856101351424)[_Ronnie Wood_](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/116642856101351424),” interjects Tiamat, to cover their tension in the air “That’s the worst thing.”

Harry frowns. “Worst?”

“What she means is the only famous person you ought to go around smelling is me,” says Louis, because that is what she means. Only, he hadn’t wanted to say that. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Harry’s brow pulls together. “Louis,” he says, enunciating very clearly.

“Harry,” Louis replies.

“You’re the only person I want to be smelling,” says Harry, sounding very serious.

“And you’re mine,” Louis says, also serious.

“Yay,” says Tiamat. “We’re each other’s favorite smells. Glad we established that. Can we sit back down, now?”

Louis keeps staring at Harry, and Harry keeps staring at Louis, and it’s only Nick barreling back into the conversation with a giggling Liam that interrupts the two of them.

“You good for walking, young Harold?” asks Nick, draping an arm around Harry’s waist. “Not too star struck?”

Louis reminds himself that Nick’s hand has to go there, because otherwise he’d be touching Liana. Which only Louis gets to do. He ends up smirking a bit smugly at that thought, and Nick’s daemon looks oddly pensive.

“Did you know Mick Jagger’s got a male daemon?” says Harry to Nick, but still looking at Louis.

“Yes,” says Nick, sounding amused.

“I didn’t,” Louis lies, inserting himself into the conversation and not even hiding the preening once Liana jumps off Harry’s shoulders and onto Tiamat.

“Well he does,” says Harry, smiling brightly at Louis. “I think it’s sick.”

Louis shakes his head at him a little, unable to help the bloom of affection in his chest. Harry reaches out for his hands, tugging Louis in close by both of them and not letting go.

Nick’s daemon stares between the two of them with unblinking, golden eyes that are far too knowing for Louis’ tastes. By all means Louis should be worried about that, but he isn’t, because it’s late, he’s drunk, and they just were given advice from a Rolling Stone.

Louis tightens his grip on Harry’s fingers and smiles back.

\--

He tells Harry about the jealousy thing a few days later, curled up on a plane back from New York having finished filming their second music video. The rest of the boys are up front doing something, having left Harry and Louis to their own devices once it became clear that Louis wasn’t going to stop tracing Harry’s fingers with his own and Harry wasn’t going to stop smiling anytime soon.

Too much love, Liam’d said, but Bethania’s tail had been wagging.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” says Harry finally, lifting his head up off the seat, which they’d pushed back because it was a fancy private jet and they could do things like that.

Louis yawns a little and tightens his grip on Harry’s fingers. “I’ve got to go on a date with Eleanor when we get back,” he says quietly. “We’re going walking in the park.”

He doesn’t say that it’s their official introduction, that they have to be smiling and holding hands and looking like they’re oh-so in love, but Harry hears it anyway, because Liana is climbing up into Louis’ t-shirt and pressing her nose into his chin.

“Sucks,” she says quietly.

“I love you,” Louis replies.

Liana makes a snuffling noise that sound suspiciously like a sob. “You sure you won’t leave us for Lysander?”

Louis punches Harry in the shoulder because he’s large enough for him to do so. “For the last time I was being a smart arse, Harold,” he says. And then he winces.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you don’t like Nick,” he says.

Louis frowns at him. “I don’t not like Nick,” he says. “I just. Don’t like him.”

Harry raises both his eyebrows.

Louis sits up in the seat and smacks him in the arm again. “Shut up,” he says. “I just mean I don’t dislike him, is all.”

Harry leans back in the seat a bit and surveys Louis for a long moment. “You’re jealous,” he decides.

“I am not jealous,” Louis says instantly, which he’s aware does nothing to help his case. “I mean.”

“We’re kind of jealous,” says Tiamat helpfully.

Louis doesn’t look at her.

Harry shakes his head. “You’ve got no reason to be jealous,” he says, and no doubt he’s about three seconds from launching into a speech about trust being crucial to healthy relationships, which normally Louis would be thrilled about, but not at this point and time.

He leans forward and kisses Harry, like the walking, talking cliché he is.

Harry sighs into his mouth and kisses back, gentle and soothing and nothing like the fire burning in Louis’ belly. “You really don’t, Lou.”

Louis flops back down against the seat and stares up at the plane ceiling, at the glowing lights telling them their seatbelts can be off and they aren’t allowed to be smoking. “I don’t dislike him,” he repeats. “I just don’t like him.”

Harry would be the one person to get what he’s saying, because he just hums and snuggles back in close to Louis so that his curls are tucked under his chin. “You two would get along,” he says finally.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “He’s fine, I guess. I just--he’s allowed to like you, is the thing.”

Harry goes quiet. “Oh.” He tightens his grip on Louis’ shoulders and hums a bit of the single. It’s been in everyone’s head since it dropped on Radio a few weeks back, but Louis still has very vivid memories of the first time he heard Harry sing it. He smiles a little.

“It’s not a big deal, H, sorry,” he tells Harry, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s hair. “I’m glad you like him.”

“Do you not like Eleanor?” Leave it to Harry to hit the underlying issue right on the nose.

Louis would be lying if he said he disliked Eleanor. Mostly, he just doesn’t know her. She’s there to provide a function, and as much as that function makes Louis spirit Harry away into the country never to return, he doesn’t hate her for it.

“No, I,” he starts to say. “She’s fine.”

“Because I’m jealous of Eleanor,” Harry continues, unabashed.

Louis wasn’t expecting him to say that outright. “What?” he says. He knew, because Harry hadn’t been subtle, but he hadn’t thought he was going to come out and say it point blank.

“She gets to be with you and I can’t,” Harry explains quietly.

“You’re the only one who’s with me, though,” Louis points out, leaning down so that his lips are brushing Harry’s curls.

Liana’s claws press into his skin like tiny pinpricks. “Doesn’t always feel like it,” she whispers, into the space between them.

On the plane floor, Tiamat lifts her head and stares at the three of them until Harry kicks out a foot to touch her.

“Yeah, well,” says Louis, shifting them all around so that he can _cling_. “It’s the truth.”

Harry pushes back into Louis and sighs. “I just love you a lot,” he says finally. “I wish that was okay.”

And Louis is suddenly furious, because it is okay. It is. It’s just, they’ve got a tour, and an album, and while the tickets are set to sell out by the records and they’ve been number one for weeks, he’s seen the statistics and he’s seen their signatures and he knows what they’ve signed up for. But it’s okay. They’re okay, and fuck anyone who convinces Harry otherwise.

“Nothing about us isn’t okay,” he tells Harry vehemently, clutching at him quite a bit harder. “We’re more than okay. We’re the dream team.”

Harry laughs. “Always,” he says, snuggling closer to Louis and letting out a deep breath. “A park?”

Louis goes to speak and ends up yawning into Harry’s hair instead.

“That about sums up my feelings towards it as well,” says Tiamat from her place at their feet. “Am _I_ going to have to act as well?”

“It wouldn’t be very nice if you didn’t,” Louis starts to say, and Harry stiffens a little next to him. “But technically _you_ didn’t sign the contract.”

“Technically you’re not separate individuals,” says Liana, but Harry is shushing her and grinning up at Louis like they’ve won the lottery.

“So that’s a no from me, then,” Louis says in his best Simon Cowell impression, raising an eyebrow at Tiamat.

“Alright,” she says. “I mean it’s not like I was going to do more than talk to him.”

Harry looks smug.

“The same rules apply for you and Caroline,” Louis says quickly, before he loses his cool. “Like. No talking to Hesiod.”

Liana worms her head out of his shirt. “Are you sure you’re not jealous?”

“Everyone on this entire plane is jealous,” interrupts Niall¸ striding into the room with Eirian at his side. “Of my wicked style.”

Louis stares at the words ‘thing 4’ emblazoned on Niall’s t-shirt and blinks. He looks over at Harry’s ‘thing 2’ shirt. He looks down at his own ‘thing 1’ shirt. He blinks some more.

Paul comes into a view a few moments later, sighing and wearing his own shirt with ‘thing 6’ on the front and with Zayn and Liam following him.

Louis blinks a few more times. “Niall,” he says slowly. “We’re literally all wearing the same t-shirt.”

Niall just flips him off and tells him to budge over because they’re landing in London.

A couple hours later and Louis has to walk around a park with Eleanor and smile for cameras, but she’s actually not that bad, as people go, and he laughs at least once, genuinely. Tiamat refuses to say more than three words to Lysander,  but instead of being bothered by it, Eleanor almost seems thankful.

Louis puts his arm around her waist, smiles, and starts counting down the minutes till he can go back home to Harry.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT DONE. Next up, October 2011. Rebloggable masterpost available [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/107332258900/fic-i-need-you-here-with-me-now). (Nothing makes me happier than ppl reblogging that.) Daemon tag [here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/tagged/the-daemon%20au) and daemon primer--with updated daemon list--[here](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/daemonau).


End file.
